


Tricks of Fate

by gatekat, Starsheild (StarRise)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Blackmail, Bondage, Consensual Sex, M/M, Pre-War, Prostitution, Spark Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3153383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarRise/pseuds/Starsheild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of moments when Jazz and Prowl's lives intersect over the vorns.<br/>Prompt: Former buymecha Prowl being blackmailed</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rewarding Ones Self (prolog)

**Author's Note:**

> The J/P is consensual.
> 
> Prowl is  
> [Tri-Wing Prowl by Alteride](http://gatekat.deviantart.com/art/Tri-Wing-Prowl-by-Alteride-261651115) by [Gatekat](http://gatekat.deviantart.com/) on [deviantART](http://www.deviantart.com)

The dark mech had visited this particular hotel before, though if the receptionist recognized him the mech didn't show it. Actually, Jazz would have been surprised if he had, given that Jazz tended to have a distinctly different appearance every time he checked in here.

"One of your better suites for three nights, and some company for tonight." Jazz ordered as he dropped the credits on the desk. "Someone with some sort of wings, if you have them."

The receptionist nodded and glanced at his terminal as he checked Jazz in. "Designation of record? We do have a Praxian available tonight."

"For the record: Jager." Jazz said as more credits changed hands. "And the Praxian sounds like fun. Rare, around here."

"They are, and this one's come up from the street. He's earned his place here and his pay grade," the receptionist said. "How long do you wish to have him?"

"An orn." Jazz said with a smile of anticipation. "I might want him longer, if we hit off."

"To guarantee the reservation, please inform us before the tenth joor," the receptionist said and handed Jazz a passkey card. "Everything you need it on it; your room number, directions, comm numbers and services, amenities, and hotel expectations. If you are unsure who to call, you may always ping the main desk here and we will connect you with the mecha you need. Is there anything else I can set up for you tonight?"

"I'll probably order some room service later. Other than that, no. Thank you for your help." Jazz said as he palmed the key and turned and walked away.

The lift was a smooth ride up to the suite he had paid for, and as he stepped in Jazz had to admit that he was pleased. It was better quality than he had enjoyed on his last few visits here. Of course, this job had been one of the biggest to date, and Jazz was reaping the benefits of his growing reputation. Rooms like this, and the services he had and would order, would soon be more common than not.

The small entry way opened into a large room with a plush berth and Jazz smiled as he pressed a hand into the deep padding. This would be a fun night.

But what really made the room worth the extra credits was the large, deep oil pool. He made short work of rinsing off the grime of the road, not that he wasn't already reasonably clean from washing up after his job, and slipped into the heated oil that oozed into every crevices of his frame with soft, supportive warmth. Just this was well worth the price of the room and it had partially drifted off when there was a knock at the door and a ping to his comm that his company had arrived. He granted his company access. 

"Come on in." He invited as he rolled over in the oil, arms crossing on the edge of the so his helm could rest of them as he studied this Praxian that came so highly recommended.

Not that he would expect an employee of the establishment to say anything less of another employee to paying customer. On first glance, he had to admit the Praxian was a good-looking mech that carried himself well. Mostly white with a light shimmer to the finish, with bright sapphire optics, a rich yellow chevron and the single sensor wing panel of a free Praxian of commoner heritage.

The Praxian fluttered his sensor wings, causing the white finish on them to shimmer in the light. "I am Prowl," his rich rumble was a voice Jazz instinctively knew could carry authority if Prowl tried to, but the buymecha wasn't. "What do you wish tonight?"

"Come closer." Jazz said, motioning the Praxian to approach. A crook of his finger had Prowl leaning down, and Jazz guided his company in for a kiss that was smoothly welcomed, returned and offered to go deeper with a flare of _arousal-question_ in Prowl's field as it reached out to caress Jazz's.

"Very nice." Jazz commented with a smile as he released Prowl. "First, I would like for you to join me." He said, waving to the steaming oil in the large bath. He watched as the Praxian smoothly slipped into the oil with an appreciative sound.

"Thank you, Jager," Prowl said with a sensual moan as his optics dimmed in the pleasure of it.

"You enjoy this?" Jazz asked, giving the Praxian a few kliks to relax as he studied him some more. The mech's field teeked pleasantly, honest enjoyment of the oil being chief among them in the moment.

"A great deal. It is a rare luxury. I only indulge in the full spa treatment once a vorn," Prowl's optics continued to dim, but his field remained attentive to Jazz.

"Well, hopefully you don't mind having to share it with me then." Jazz said as he reached out and grabbed Prowl's arm, guiding the mech over to straddle Jazz's lap with his wings to the dark mech. 

Prowl relaxed into the direction, easily settling and spreading the single panels for his client's pleasure. "Not in the least. It is your oil to share."

"And your wings are mine to play with." Jazz purred, clearly pleased. He had paid for them, and he planned to take full use of his purchase as he stroked slowly, working on figuring out this mech's sweet spots. Prowl was obliging too, teeking of honest pleasure and genuine willingness as he shivered and pressed into the touch, his vocalizer temporarily lost to anything but moans. Against his lap, Jazz felt Prowl's valve heating and the subtle shifts of frame that would make it so very easy to sink into him.

"You are good." Jazz purred, pleased at the responsiveness of the mech. "Maybe I'll reward you for being so good. But your wings first. I like sensor wings, wings in general, for that matter. So sensitive. They can bring such pleasure..."

Slowly his hands slid out around the edges, tracing them between his fingers tips as he pressed his lips against the smooth surface of one. "But just the wrong touch could bring so much pain as well." He continued, tweaking the tips with the lightest of pressure. He had no intention of hurting his company, but the mech's reaction to Jazz's knowledge was a point of interest for him.

"Very true," Prowl managed to corral his vocalizer for a bit, but the tweak didn't even get a flinch. The mech knew pain and knew what was meant to make him cry out and pull away.

"Don't worry." Jazz whispered. "Your's are too beautiful to damage." He assured Prowl as he continued to touch and taste. The heat of the mech on lap was pleasant, intoxicating, and just starting to warm Jazz.

"Thank you," Prowl moaned in pleasure with relief in his field.

"Let me see your pleasure first." Jazz instructed, dipping his fingers into the oil, then reaching up to paint explicit glyphs on the shimmering sensor wings.

Prowl moaned willingly, his back arching and pressing his sensor wings into the touch. The erotic glyphs drew in sharp vents of air as Prowl willingly sank into the touch intended to overload him. Jazz groaned and pulled the Praxian on his lap flush with his frame as Prowl gave in to the overload, the energy crackling above the oil and against Jazz.

"Open." Jazz ordered, his spike hard between them as Prowl came back to awareness. Compliance came immediately and it was more than just sliding the valve cover open. Prowl wiggled so Jazz could comfortably and easily take him.

"Fill me," Prowl's low voice was thick with desire.

"That is the plan, my pretty one." Jazz purred as hands slid down from the wings to catch Prowl's hips and hold him still as Jazz took the offered valve. He could sense the practiced squeeze of the valve around his spike, but it was so willing- attention that was focused on him, even if it was purchased attention.

"Good." Jazz said, nibbling at a wing and suddenly finding himself in a rather indulgent mood. "Tell, how do you like it?"

"Slow, deep, my lover against my back," Prowl answered willingly.

"Hmmmm." Jazz hummed, then wrapped an arm around Prowl's waist to guide them around so that Prowl was leaning against the edge of the pool with Jazz behind him. "Then that is how it shall be. Would you like to know the price?" He asked, pulling out and offering one deep thrust that buried him completely in slick valve, tempting the mech under him.

"Yes," Prowl breathed out with a deep moan as he worked his valve around the spike and fluttering his small sensor wings that his client found so appealing.

"Don't hold anything back. Enjoy, and let me feel how it feels to you." Jazz ordered as he started to move, hips rolling in a deep, smooth motion. Each thrust pushed the tip of his spike against the cluster of sensor nodes deep in the rippling valve.

"Yes," Prowl promised. It was an order that changed nothing, as he'd already assessed that this client like a responsive berthmate. Yet it also made it all the easier to moan, quiver and display for the mech behind him that was paying well for the fact that Prowl could put on a good show.

Several overloads and some overheated oil later, and Jazz was helping the Praxian from the oil bath. Gentle but firm hands guided Prowl to the berth, pushing the Praxian down onto the soft padding. Prowl moved willingly with it, his focus on determining what his client wanted next so he could provide it without prompting.

Jazz stepped back, studying the picture spread out before him before he reached out, fingers tapping lightly on the Praxian's spike cover. "What is under here, I wonder?"

Prowl rumbled a deep purr and the cover snapped back to expose a housing that was a good quality and the glossy red tip of a spike already poking out.

"Attractive." Jazz commented, a single finger touching the tip before sliding out to circle the surrounding area. "Let me see the rest," he purred as Prowl rolled his hips into the touch with a low moan. The well-proportioned spike, mostly white with blue and red racing stripes, slipped out into Jazz's hand smoothly and eagerly.

"Very nice. How often do you get to use this lovely thing?" Jazz asked, squeezing lightly down to the housing before his palm slid along the underside back to the top.

Prowl arched into the touch with a wanton moan. "Not often with clients. Lovers frequently want it."

"I'm sure you have many lovers." Jazz complimented him, still smiling as he continued to stroke the spike and climbed on to the berth.

"I'm rarely lonely," Prowl moaned fully and freely as he focused on making a display of himself. His spike fully pressurized, he pulsed his field out to caress Jazz's, coaxing him to ride if he wanted to.

Jazz laughed, welcoming the teasing as he reached into his subspace and pulled out a pair of cuffs. "Ever play with these?"

"Of course," Prowl's engine gave a rev as he locked onto the object. "They can be a great deal of fun," he purred and stretched out, his wrists by the headboard.

"Something that we agree on." Jazz said, pleased by the reaction as he slid up the bed, easily securing the Praxian's hands over his helm. Satisfied with his work, he leaned down, claiming a deep kiss that was eagerly welcomed and returned. Prowl flared his field again, pressing it deep into Jazz's frame to tingle circuits.

"You are fun." The compliment came easily and honestly as Jazz swung a leg over the prone mech, straddling Prowl with ease and returning the deep field pulses.

"I do my best," Prowl moaned and arched into the pulses even as he returned them, playing with the strength and frequency of his efforts.

"Keep it up." Jazz encouraged as he sank back, shivering as his valve was stretched and filled. This was something he did not get often because he did not trust others. He would not have done it tonight if his company had resisted the cuffs in any way. But far from resisting, the mech stretched on the berth beneath him had welcomed them, and was playing along quite nicely. It was far better than he'd expected, even with paying for the mech's time in a nice hotel. He'd be remembering Prowl's designation and using him again, and again.

Their moans mingled, Prowl holding still as he was enveloped until his housing rubbed against sensitive platelets. Only then did he push his hips up, just a bit, and rocked against his client to send small jolts of pleasure into them both.

"Yes, yes. Very good." Jazz moaned as he moved against the other's motion, grinding their arrays together. The small sparks of pleasure from his valve were building smoothly, and he let it spread through his field and into Prowl. The buymecha's field responded readily with emotional pleasure in the sharing and the physical pleasure of its frame. It was exquisitely enjoyable, to have a completely submissive berthmate that was still a full, active participant and Jazz was already planning to tip Prowl well for his services.

It was so nice that Jazz relaxed more than he had in a long time, letting his guard fall enough that he was truly enjoying the exchange, and the overloads that rolled through him and reflected that fact. He was panting and barely able to hold himself up when he finally pulled away, falling to the berth next to the still bound Praxian that wasn't in much better shape. Prowl had overloaded nearly as often as Jazz and was making a lovely display of fluffing and contracting in a complex pattern that drew air in from top and bottom and pushed it out his chest to cool his core quickly.

Even now, Prowl made no effort to ask for the cuffs to be removed, and he was still relaxed. Jazz contemplated that as he reached out to stroke his companion, the touches gentle and curious now as they both relaxed. Thoughtfully he reached up and detached the cuffs from the head of the bed, but left the Praxian's wrists bound. It allowed Prowl to relax his arms and shoulders, but that's about all he bothered to do as he watched Jazz for direction.

"Just relax. I'm ordering room service. What would you like?" Jazz offered, the connection queued up but on hold as he waited for an answer.

There was a flicker of surprise in Prowl, quickly controlled. "A mordax sharp, please."

"Very well." Jazz agreed easily as he opened the line to the service desk and placed the order. 

"Five kliks for delivery." Jazz said when he was done. He shifted, leaning over Prowl to kiss the Praxian softly. "Good thing I have someone to keep me entertained until it arrives.

"Indeed," Prowl purred and tried to catch another kiss. "Perhaps I can have a pre-energon snack?"

"Maybe." Jazz said, teasing before he leaned in to kiss Prowl again, deeper and longer this time. "What do you have in mind?"

"That your spike might be ready for a little oral action," Prowl offered with a deep rumble between kisses.

"Really think you can pull it off before our energon arrives?" Jazz asked, visor flashing with interest and his spike already released and starting to pressurize at the suggestion.

"I am willing to try," Prowl willingly rose to the challenge.

"With your hands tied?" Jazz countered, running a teasing finger down up the Praxian's chest before falling back on the berth, spike exposed and proud. Silver, blue, and black spiraled down the length, optic catching in the dim light of the room.

"I don't use my hands much when giving oral," Prowl said rather proudly as he shifted to kneel between Jazz's legs and rested his bound wrists on Jazz's abdominal plating and kissed the shiny black tip before sliding his lips down the sensitive head as he smoothly worked his way to kissing the housing.

"Oh...so show me." Jazz moaned, visor dimming as his attention shifted from watching the Praxian to feelings coming from his spike. This Prowl was so, so very good. So talented, and so apparently honestly willing. It was difficult to believe this was a baymecha, someone forced into the trade by circumstance. Yet it happened sometimes, and Jazz knew it to be true, that mecha occupationally found their calling in unexpected ways.

Ventilations picking up from the slide of lip plates, swirl of glossa, and the massaging of a relaxed, welcoming intake, as Prowl worked up and down the rigid shaft with the ease of practice and enjoying the act.

"Primus, is there anything you're not good at?" Jazz moaned as he fell back on the berth, hips rolling slightly with the skill being lavished on his spike. It drove his charge high, and a small part of him noted that Prowl had plenty of time to spare if he continued to work Jazz up at this rate.

Prowl chuckled, focusing the vibrations through his intake as he sank all the way down, then backed off, slowing just a bit to draw the charge buildup out a bit, intent on letting Jazz overload so he was recovering when the energon arrived. Jazz was just as willing, if not more so, than his partner. And Prowl was an exceptionally skilled partner, bringing the mech that was the sole focus of his attention to overload in less than two kliks.

The keen of pleasure and the burst of burning transfluid hit at the same time, one strong hand catching the back of the Praxian's helm as Jazz spilled into him. Prowl relaxed into the grip as he swallowed the hot, crackling transfluid with the ease of considerable willing practice. When Jazz's grip relaxed, Prowl drew away, only to begin to lick Jazz clean.

Jazz was flopped out, still panting and enjoying the attention when the door chime rang.

"I will get it, if you wish," Prowl offered.

"Cuffs and all?" Jazz asked from where he was comfortably sprawled on the berth, spike clean but not yet away.

"That is up to you," Prowl said as he stood smoothly. "I can remove them, or not."

"I like them on you." Jazz said, turning that admission over in his processor as he waved for Prowl to proceed. The Praxian walked to answer the door without hesitation, his wrists still bound. The mech on the other side didn't even cycle an optic at the scene as the tray was handed over. The door closed as Prowl turned to bring the tray and its two cubes to the berthside table closest to Jazz.

Jazz motioned Prowl onto the berth, and held out his hand for the cuffs. "Give them back."

A quick twist of his wrists, a small transformation, and Prowl picked the lock in less than a quarter klik to hand them back, undamaged.

"So what were you, before?" Jazz asked quietly as he handed Prowl the energon that he had requested.

"Nothing. I was discarded. I learned to slip handcuffs after an trick went particularly bad." Prowl said as he sipped his energon with a pleased sound. "There is little as effective as almost deactivating for lack of a skill to encourage one to learn that skill."

"Very true." Jazz agreed, not digging any deeper as he sipped at his own order. Sweet and warm, the blended oil and energon slid down his intake with ease to settle in his tank.

After a klik he reached out, tugging gently at Prowl until the mech relaxed against Jazz, putting the Praxian's helm and wings in easy reach for gentle petting. He felt as much as teeked how easily Prowl relaxed into the position and contact, and the pleasure he took from the touch.

"Do you enjoy your function now?" Jazz asked, curious and letting his guard fall a little once more.

"Yes, I find it enjoyable to bring others pleasure. That it is often pleasurable for me only improves my existence," Prowl said with the teek of one who had long considered the question from many angles. "I am treated well here."

"Content? Or do you have a dream for beyond this?" It was small talk, and Jazz knew it. But it was something that he was rarely able to indulge in.

"I have plans," Prowl admitted. "There are upgrades I'd like to have, though mostly I am working on how to survive when I am no longer able to work. I've seen may ways to deactivate and I intend to chose my time and method."

That made Jazz pause, his hand going still in surprise. "Just how old are you?"

"Six hundred and three vorns," Prowl answered smoothly.

"And you're already thinking about deactivating? Pit, _why_ mech?" Jazz demanded.

"All mecha deactivate. Now that I am in a place where I do not have to focus on surviving my recharge cycle, I can focus on ensuring I never face that existence again," Prowl attempted to explain. "That requires planning and preparing for the time when I can no longer earn enough in an orn to live well."

"But still, already? You have a whole functioning ahead of you. And even if this was not your original function, you are good at this." Jazz said, trying to understand.

"Thank you. I plan because experience has taught me that the future is unstable. Just because I am young does not mean I have millennia being able to work ahead of me. I was unprepared for a bad turn once. I do not intended to be unprepared again."

"Up for another round?" Jazz asked as his energon ran low, one hand sliding down the Praxian's frame to tease at Prowl's valve cover.

"Always," Prowl rumbled with a flare of arousal as the panel slid open.

"Then move for me, my pretty." Jazz said with a smile as he set aside the empty cube and kissed Prowl slowly and sweetly before allowing the Praxian to shift on to his front, offering valve and wings to Jazz with easy surrender.

"Enjoy." Jazz said, though the word was more request than order as he sank smoothly into the slick valve. "Enjoy."


	2. On The Hunt

The precinct was spotless and running with smooth efficiency. Not that Jazz had expected anything less. Praxus had a reputation, one that had been built over generations, and one they were very proud of. They were a city that was fair to its citizens, and hard on its criminals. Only the criminal they were after now was not one of their own, but rather an intruder that the darkest and most unruly of Cybertron's districts would not claim.

Jazz noted that he'd been noticed, knew that several officers, both desk staff and others, were tracking him, but none came up to him. He wasn't surprised. Unlike so many imperial officers, he wasn't one to display his rank or status. He'd come in through bounty hunting and come up the SpecOps side of things were discretion was valued. He was about to walk up to the front desk and introduce himself when he spotted a small ripple of tension directed behind him, towards the main doors and gave a discreet glance that was. Nope, not trouble, just the mecha he was here to see. The Lord of Law of Praxus, the top-ranking Enforcer in the city. Well, that was one less stop that he was going to have to make along the way. Smoothly he turned and made his way across the room and greeted the mech with a respectful nod, one of an equal. "Lord Lockcheck."

"Agent Jazz," Lockcheck inclined his helm and long, elegant sensor wings in reply. "If you come with me, we can speak in my office."

"Of course, my lord. After you." The dark mech portrayed nothing but ease and confidence as he followed the Praxian through the precinct.

Jazz was thankful for his visor as he walked though. It let him take in the lovely view of the elegant sensor wings in front of him, and all of those surrounding him as well. Praxians were elegant, attractive mecha as a whole, and Jazz had developed a taste for them long ago.

He was here to do a job, and do it well. But if he was lucky, maybe he could find time for a reward when he was done. Or even a temporary lover while he was assigned to the case, depending on how long it ran. If not, his expense account covered enough for a good buymecha or cheep pleasurebot more nights than not as long as he didn't splurge on his quarters. It was a balance that he'd long ago perfected, and even in Praxus, one of the most expensive cities to visit, it was possible.

Just on walking in, Jazz knew this office wasn't used all that much, though from his reputation, it was because this Lord of Law spent time in so many offices as he surprised the various precincts that no single one saw that much of him.

"Please, sit, if you'd like," Lockcheck motioned to a plush chair meant for Praxians across the desk from his own.

The offer was accepted with ease, Jazz hopping into the chair, completely serious as he focused in on Lockcheck as two cubes of fine high grade were poured and one was offered to Jazz. "So what's the situation?"

"I'll leave the details of bringing you up to speed to the detectives," Lockcheck said as he regarded Jazz. "I'm asking as a courtesy to know if you are here for anything other than to include our findings in the imperial case."

"From what was reported, you have a serial killer on your hands. One that has hopped from city to city for centuries. My superiors want this ended. I am here to make sure that happens, preferably with the cooperation of Praxian Law Enforcement." Jazz informed Lockcheck, taking a sip of the energon.

The Lord of Law nodded. "You will have it. Do you intend to take the perpetrator if he's taken alive?"

"If he is taken alive, it will be up to my superiors." Jazz said. "They have not indicated a preference one way or another yet. That may change as we learn more, or as we get closer to closure."

Another nod. "Have you worked with Praxian Enforcers before?"

"Enough that I know the basics. Any recent changes to policy and procedure would be appreciated." Jazz said, not giving away anything about how often he was in the city, or not. It wasn't what had been asked, and Lockcheck seemed to know not to ask for details.

A file was pinged to Jazz and Lockcheck stood. "I will introduce you to the detective in charge of this case."

"He a good one?" Jazz asked as he started riffling through the file, noting small changes here and there, but nothing that was drastic or going to take much work to adapt to.

"Best detective on the force, and the secondary detectives are among my best as well," Lockcheck said as they walked deeper into the central precinct to places that visitors just didn't get to without a guide. "We do not have many serial killers in Praxus. The last one was when I was still a lieutenant. We take the threat seriously."

"Anything I should know about him up front?" Jazz asked, filing the info away, already pleased. The Praxian Lord of Law had a reputation for being direct, and for not tolerating mecha that gave any less than their best. If he said this detective was the best, Jazz willing to believe it until proven otherwise.

"Detective Twister. He's a Praxian Hunter-Detective. So he's not all that social, but when it comes to finding and removing threats, none are better," Lockcheck answered. "Normally a hunter wouldn't be put on a case until it's cold or the perpetrator has fled, but he was between hunts so I took advantage of it. If this killer leaves Praxus, you would do well to keep in contact with Twister. He won't leave this case until we have a body. The secondary detectives are normal ones from the ranks. One from each precinct we know a murder is by this killer, and three others that specialize in serial criminals."

"Sounds good. I'll get the low-down from him, and we'll go from there." Jazz agreed, field already shifting to something that felt very much like a hunter's mode, deadly and focused.

"After that, I do request that you review our current murder cases, in case you see any that might be linked that we didn't make the connection with," Lockcheck, pausing outside large double doors, one of several sets spaced widely along the hall.

"Of course. Long as this mecha's been at it, I doubt he'd've changed his MO so much that you all would have missed it, but sometimes fresh optics see stuff." Jazz agreed.

"Sometimes the first one or two murders aren't connected to the series," Lockcheck said as he triggered the door to open.

All attention flashed to them for an instant, then the four mecha inside went back to their work. A holomap of Praxus strewn with data dominated half of the room, while two long tables had been pushed together to form seating for four on a side. They were full of datapads, scribbled notes, workstations and all the paraphernalia Jazz was used to seeing in an active and frantic stage investigation.

Lockcheck let the door close behind him before he gave a whistle for attention. "Detectives, this is Agent Jazz of the Imperial Justice Division. He will be joining us for this investigation as it ties into the serial murders in several other cities."

Jazz's senses swept the room instantly, noting the assisting detectives and locking in on the mech who was clearly running the show. They all had two of the three possible sensor-wing panels, though even Jazz was willing to admit the correlation between rank, function and status and how many panels a mecha could have, it was not something he had made sense of yet.

"Yes, sir," Twisted nodded with a polite, if stiff twitch of his sensor wings. "Come and get yourself up to date, Jazz," the mech motioned him to the holo-display.

"Thank-you." Jazz said, sliding over to the display, managing an angle where he could see clearly but was not in anyone's way as they worked as he began to assess what they had. "Anything that isn't concrete you can share?"

"Nothing that isn't in the file," Twister said with a negative flick of his sensor wings.

It was an improbable answer, but one that didn't, exactly, feel like an outright lie. More likely just a detective with incredibly high standards. That could be good or bad, and was usually both. It was something that Jazz had dealt with before, and could deal with now. With a nod of acceptance he settled in to review the cases and see what theories and possibilities he could find for himself.

* * *

It was quite clear that the mech that had been assigned as his guide and escort during his time in the city was less than pleased with the whole assignment. It was far from an uncommon reaction, and Jazz was used to it. Yet Jazz could not fault the junior detective's professionalism, and even if his social skills left much to be desired, he wasn't that unpleasant to be around, and definitely easy on the optics.

The mech swerved in traffic, and Jazz followed the abrupt move with ease, his processor shifting back to the immediate present. They were on their way to a new crime scene, the first since Jazz had arrived in Praxus. There was a detached kind of excitement in Prowl's field, the kind that came from coding and the response to being too eager to reach a scene.

It was the most emotion the detective had displayed, and Jazz was beginning to suspect it wasn't Twister than was unusual, but the base code all Enforcers were loaded with that muted their emotions. His processor flew off on that as a sub-tangent as they came up on the crime scene. Mecha of multiple size and even some varying frametime were gathered around the perimeter of an apartment complex, and Prowl had to sound his siren once to clear them a path through.

Jazz transformed as soon as he was across the line, optics sweeping up the front of the building with ease. Standard Praxian architecture met his optics, graceful, open and full of air and crystal even in the lower-middle class neighborhood they were standing in. When Prowl identified himself and Jazz, the beat cop guarding the apartment door let them in to the scene of well-organized chaos. Jazz recognized it, and Prowl was clearly familiar enough with it that he didn't even pause as he began his tour of the one-berthroom apartment without a word. The tell-tale signs of their killer were all around. Nothing was out of place, except in the berthroom.

On the surface Jazz was calm and collected, but his spark twisted a little at the sight of the latest victims, and the initial profile.

Singles were common, and the serial killer had offed lovers before. But this was the first bonded couple that had been murdered. 

What was left of the frames were tied in chairs that faced each other, the stench of the acid that had been their demise still strong in the room. Mangled armor from the torture they had endured was evident at the first glance.

A closer look and one could see deeper, to the malformed spark chambers that were dark and disturbing to still functioning mecha.

The most disturbing thing, at least to Jazz, was just how unaffected Twister seemed to be. The mech acted like this was nothing to be unsettled about. Even Prowl, who was annoyingly calm most of the time, teeked as about ready to lose his lunch. Honestly, if Jazz didn't know without any shred of doubt where Twister was during three murders, the mech would be at the top of the suspects list already.

With a visible shake he settled himself and set about inspecting _everything_ , noting as much as he could in the moment to be compared to what he already knew when he had time to set down and process it later.

Two joors later and the detective team was heading out, leaving the scene to those who would gather the evidence to be sent off to forensics, and to the officials who would see the frames to main Temple of Primus in Praxus, and the care of the priests there.

As they left the complex Jazz noticed Crosshair speaking to a clearly distressed Praxian. He paused for a moment, then decided it must be a relation to one of the victims as he followed Prowl back to the main road.

"Is he always like that?" Jazz questioned his guide before they transformed.

::All hunters are,:: Prowl's field gave a shiver. ::That's what you get when you create a mecha to hunt down the most deranged and dangerous of our kind. He's seen far worse in his hunts.::

::But it still bothered you.:: Jazz stated as they pulled into traffic.

::I'm not that hardened yet,:: Prowl pointed out.

::Do you wish to be like that?:: Jazz questioned as he settled in behind Prowl, honestly curious as to the answer.

It took a long moment before Prowl answered ::negative.::

Jazz found himself relieved at that, and they drove quietly within the loose pack of Enforcers all headed for their workspace in the central precinct. While Jazz did his best to help, and found that his comments and observations were taken seriously, it was still a very dull and rather spark-twisting thirty joors before it was agreed that there was little to do before forensics began to come back, something that would take at least another ten joors. That was time to go hit a washrack, tavern and home for some recharge.

After cleaning up many of the mecha started off on their own, heading for whatever fueling locations tickled their fancy on their way home.

Jazz found himself exiting next to Prowl, and after a moment of consideration spoke. "Where ya planning to stop for fuel?"

"The Quiet Seeker," Prowl said, with a sensor wing flick to indicate that Jazz was welcome to join him.

"Thanks," Jazz nodded as they folded into alt modes and flowed into traffic. The drive was a short one, and Jazz found himself thankful for that. After the orn even he was looking forward to something that at least resembled normal and familiar. He had to appreciate Prowl's choice of locations too. The Quiet Seeker was a quiet place, a mixture of cafe and bar, though they'd arrived well before the normal after-work crowd and it was much more in cafe mode.

They were greeted and Jazz had no doubt that Prowl was a regular customer with a regular routine as the Praxian led the way to a small, out of the way table in the corner. A server came by to take their order, and then Jazz relaxed in his chair with a sigh, trying to release some of the tension of the orn from his frame.

"Is this a common type of assignment for you?" Prowl asked after their drinks had arrived and it became clear that the Praxian was in no hurry to finish.

"Not murders in general, but stuff this serious? Yeah." Jazz admitted. "I've worked murders, kidnappings, trafficking, to name a little."

"Does it ever get to you, always working such grim cases?" Prowl asked as he sipped his energon.

Several kliks of silence followed his question as Jazz seriously considered the answer. "Sometimes." He finally admitted. "Yeah, sometimes it does. My boss is good though. He can tell when I've hit the limit, always gives me some time off to pull myself back together. He knows I can handle it, just need to do it my way."

"That is a good boss," Prowl gave an appreciative flick of his elegant two-panel sensor wings. "What cities have you been in long enough to know your way around?"

"Iacon I know really well. Been in and out of Praxus over the vorns. Polyhex. Know Kaon better than I would like. Half a dozen more that I know well enough that I can visit and work without an issue." Jazz rattled off with ease. The conversation drew more of the tension from him, even this level of social a relief that he had been needing.

"Is Kaon really as brutal as we think it is?" Prowl focused on a city he'd never even been close to.

"Yes and no. Overall, either you can deal with the way it is, or you can't." Jazz said. "To mecha where who were created there, the way it functions is normal. Most of them don't seem to have an interest in moving anywhere else. There are some parts of it- small parts- that are nice. By the rest of Cybertron's standards though- yes. It is not what many places consider civilized. They have their own way of doing things, with a rhyme and reason that makes little sense to outsiders. Not like Vos, where things are different, but Seekers have a reason that most mecha can at least start to grasp for a how and why."

"Seekers don't hold grounders, or even Aerials, to their standards either," Prowl added something he did know from first-hand experience. "As long as you're willing to say that Seekers are superior, they don't fuss much about what we do unless we hurt one of them. The laws for non-Seekers are pretty standard and probably the least complex of anywhere except Helex, at least they were to me."

"You've traveled?" Jazz asked, curious now to where the Enforcer might have ventured and what he had encountered.

"Before I enlisted," Prowl nodded. "I spent most of my time in Iacon and Vos, but I've been to Polyhex, Altihex and Crystal City as well."

"What were you doing in Vos?" Jazz asked, social curiosity in his field at the fact of a shared travel destination.

"I went to explore where Praxus's founders came from, but the highlight of my first visit was being there for a Rite of the Storm Flight. My second visit I went for the Imperial Showcase the last time they held it," Prowl said with small flutters of his sensor wings displaying just how exciting both trips had been for him.

"Never been there during a 'Flight, though I've heard of them." Jazz admitted, impressed. He paused long enough to flag down a server and order another cube of energon and some snacks before continuing. "And the Imperial Showcase is impressive no matter where you see it. I caught it in Iacon once, and another time in Polyhex."

His order was delivered, and Jazz crunched several metal wafer crisps before pushing the basket toward Prowl in an offer to share. "What did you think of Crystal City?"

"It's beautiful," Prowl said as he accepted a wafer. "The aesthetics are less airy than Praxus, but do have much in common. The crystal masters there produce amazing work, and they showcase it well. They like their energon far sweeter than I prefer though."

"Agreed, and I like mine on the sweet side. So out of every place, which is your favorite?" Jazz asked, leaning forward so his elbows rested on the table.

"Praxus. I settled here for that reason," Prowl chuckled softly as he took a second wafer. "I believe Iacon is my second favorite, with Vos a close third. Have you ever been off-world?"

"I've been out to both of the moons, but no farther than that. And all of my visits have been work assignments, so things weren't too different from what you find here on Cybertron." Jazz said between crunching down more of the wafers.

"I've heard about a world that sounds like a paradise. Velocitron. An entire colony planet devoted to racing," Prowl purred a little dreamily. "I've never met anyone who's been there though."

"You a race fan, or you get into the race and the chase?" Jazz asked, field flickering in amusement even as he filed that fact away as interesting personal info on a mech who was not overly social on the surface.

"I like to race, like most Praxians. Seekers are built to fly, and Praxians are built to drive. Upgrading to Enforcer systems and coding made the desire to chase a lot stronger," he tried to explain.

"Works for me." Jazz said easily, then hesitated for a moment before voicing a new question. "How'd you end up in law enforcement? From what I understand, most Praxian Enforcers are sparked into the service."

"Most are, but there are always a small number of volunteers that are upgraded and trained for the function," Prowl nodded. "Occasionally mecha find that they are well-suited for a function they were not created for. I was one of those, and when I passed the evaluations, tests and survived upgrading, I was hired. I started in search and rescue as general personnel, worked my way up to a five-squad commander. From there Enforcers would call on me when they had to coordinate large events, whether it was for a parade, festival or assault. I found working with the Enforcers to be something I looked forward to and began the process to enlist."

"Quite the process. And the transfer to detective work?"

"It might have been less a process if I'd had a direction in my life earlier," Prowl said as he finished his cube. "Becoming a detective was much the same kind of meandering road. Those working cases in my patrol realized that I picked up on a lot of things most patrol Enforcers don't and talked to me about it. A couple included me in their cases on occasion and taught me about what being a detective was like. It was fulfilling work, so I trained more seriously and eventually earned the promotion. This is my first taskforce case. It's not something I expected to be selected for, even though I caught the case that brought my precinct in."

"You get along well with your team, at least." Jazz said with a smile, field reaching out to brush against Prowl's in a friendly manner.

"Reasonably so," Prowl nodded as his field brushed back, pleased to have friendly company in a strange precinct. "Everyone is a professional and we all want the same thing."

Jazz tipped the snack basket and finding it empty, nudged it aside. "You have plans for the evening?"

"Go home, recharge," Prowl didn't sound quite as happy about it as most had. "Though just renting a room for the night is sounding better by the klik."

"You can share mine, if you like. I would appreciate the company." Jazz offered, his field caressing Prowl's in a desire for companionship, and maybe more.

"Is it nearby?" Prowl asked, his field willing for both staying and the more.

"Couple kliks drive. I don't like being too far from my current assignment if I don't have to be." Jazz said as he stood. 

Prowl nodded and followed. "Far closer than the two joor drive to mine."

::What was your favorite thing at the Imperial Showcase?:: Jazz asked they folded into their alt modes, Jazz talking the lead this time as he pinged Prowl the location of his current room.

::All the consumables,:: Prowl answered without hesitation. ::The Hall of History and alt mod displays were very enjoyable as well. Listening to so many dialects and languages was both fascinating and frustrating. What were yours?::

::Agreed on the alt modes. Some of the racing models...:: There was a purr in Jazz's tone even across the comm as he recalled those. ::I enjoyed many of the musical performances.::

::There was quite a variety,:: Prowl agreed. ::I'm saving up to go again, though it will likely be when it comes to Praxus again. I doubt I could get enough time off to make going to another city worthwhile.::

::Probably not, and expensive too.:: Jazz agreed as he swerved into a transformation lane and shifted shape. "Here we are."

The structure was a mid-range apartment complex, far nicer than the average motel, but still well within a moderate mech's budget.

Prowl was right behind him and recognized the building as the one he'd been recommended to use by his fellow detectives, the ones who knew his preferences, if he could get his precinct chief to authorize the expense. "I understand this is a rather nice location, with good washracks," he commented as they walked inside.

"Decent small personal rinse stations in each unit, and a very nice public bath on the roof." Jazz said. "Including a large hot oil pool. Interested?"

"Very," Prowl didn't conceal the quiver of his sensor wings. "A hot oil pool is not a luxury to be refused."

"Then to the top we go, unless you need to stop on the way up." Jazz said, heading the lift and tapping the code that would take them up.

"No, I'm good with cleaning up in the public one before the hot oil," Prowl said, his field alive with anticipation as they rode the lift up.

"Then after you." Jazz said as he bowed Prowl through the lift before him into a foyer. Off to the right was a clearly marked door that indicated washstalls were within. Prowl made a pleased sound and walked inside, going right for the nearest stall and turning it on quite warm.

"It'll be good to get the death off my plating," Prowl murmured, optics off, as he allowed the hot solvent to run down his plating for a klik.

Jazz shivered as he stepped into a stall and mirrored Prowl's actions. "Agreed. Do you want help with your back?"

"It would be welcome. I can return the favor if you wish," Prowl offered the sociable reply, sensor wings and field indicating he was telling the truth.

When the worst of the orn was rinsed off Jazz turned off the solvent and approached Prowl, snagging soft scrubs and solvent gel on the way.

Without pause he reached out, starting at the base of Prowl's helm and working his way down. Gentle scrubbing removed dirt and grime from flat panels, while a soft brush was welded skillfully to clean out the crevices and seams. He was rewarded by waves of pleasure through Prowl's field and a relaxing and loosening of Prowl's armor.

"Let me know if I do something you don't like." Jazz said as he continued, hands moving skillfully over the Praxian's frame and obviously very familiar with wings and high quality sensor frame-types.

Prowl's response was more moan than word as he leaned forward and braced himself against the wall with outstretched arms. His field flared his understanding though, and how little he expected to need Jazz to stop.

Jazz was done cleaning long before his actually stopped working, enjoying Prowl's response. Finally he stepped back so the Praxian could rinse. "Take your time. Gonna go wash up myself."

"I'll still wash your back," Prowl managed to pull together enough coherency to respond before he managed to move. It was almost a full klik before he unlocked his joints and pushed against the wall lightly to fully right himself.

"Whenever you're ready. Hot oil waiting at the end though." Jazz teased with a laugh and a smile as he watched Prowl rinse off while he washed himself. He admitted to himself before Prowl finished and walked over that he would have been content to just watch the Praxian enjoy the shower.

The mech was attractive, especially for an Enforcer frame, and he moved with a grace that was optic catching when one looked at it. With a small sigh of his own Jazz turned and offered his back to Prowl. The touch felt good, especially as it came with such a relaxed field that still tingled with pleasure. Prowl's touch was good too, even when one considered he no doubt helped wash his own frametype often and a light touch with a sensitivity to feedback was with any kind of sensor-heavy components.

"Thank-you." Jazz sighed again, locking his leg joints and letting the rest of his frame relax into the social attention. It was something he got entirely too little of thanks to his function, and to have someone this willing was blissful.

He was starting to drift off a bit when Prowl nudged his shoulder. "As you said, the oil is waiting."

"Indeed it is." Jazz said as he straightened and reach to turn the rinse on. "And then a night company too, I hope."

"I'm rather hoping as well, even if I do intend to get several joors of recharge in as well. I do desire the rest," Prowl said as he rinsed his hands off in the spray. Neither bothered to dry off as they were just going into the oil. Late as it was, there were still several mecha in the pool and the pair were greeted amicably by both couples and singles.

Jazz returned the greetings, recognizing most of the others as tenants of the building as he stepped down into the pool happily. With a moan of contentment he sank completely under the surface, staying there for almost a klik before surfacing again to make his way to one of the bench seats if various heights built into the sides of the pool to set and soak. Prowl was still drifting under the surface three kliks later, but the Enforcer eventually made his way over to Jazz to sit next to his companion for the night and simply enjoy a few breems of hot oil induced relaxed pleasure.

"Better than going home for the orn?" Jazz asked, reaching out to lazy stoke an oil soaked wing, distracted by the shine in the moderate light of the pool.

"Much better," Prowl surrendered a soft moan and pressed into the touch. "I like driving as much as the next Praxian, but it's a long drive for such a short break."

"You don't live in your precinct?" A sensual femme with an Iaconian frame in shades of red asked curiously.

"I do. I'm only on loan to this one. I belong to the 63rd," Prowl told her.

"Wow, that is a long drive. And a nice area." A heavy mech commented from another bench.

"It is," Prowl agreed with dim and half lidded optics. "It's a good precinct to serve, one I am proud of."

"So what do you normally do, when you're not loaned out?" The red femme asked as she drifted slowly closer, optics scanning Prowl with interest.

"I'm a detective. I work to solve crimes that do not have obvious offenders, and track down those who are suspect and hiding from us," Prowl answered, seemingly oblivious to the femme's intents. 

Jazz suspected otherwise, but it was fun to watch play out. Feeling the vibes from Prowl, and rather confident that the mech wasn't interested in adding to their party, he settled down to let the Praxian take care of things.

"Impressive." The femme purred as she slid around to Prowl's unoccupied side, growing bolder as she was not rejected. "A worthy occupation that should be rewarded."

This time Prowl fully lit his optics and unshuttered them to look at her. "Thank you for the offer, however I am not interested in additional company."

The sultry expression morphed into a still attractive pout, the femme backed off obediently. "I live here, third floor, if you change your processors. This orn or any other." She offered as she floated away to the steps and climbed from the pool, more than one set of optics following the oil slick frame as she departed.

"I hope you weren't looking forward to that," Prowl said quietly as he relaxed fully again.

"Looking forward to what?" Jazz asked, settling back in beside Prowl and stroking the wing that was in reach gently.

"'Facing the femme," Prowl purred in soft pleasure.

"Nah. Firestar's nice, but not really my taste." Jazz said, leaning in for a chaste first kiss. "I'm very partial to wings."

Prowl hummed and turned as he leaned into the touch and kiss, welcoming the enjoyable contact.

"We can stay a long as you want." Jazz offered, snuggling against Prowl as the attention of the rest of the mecha in the pool returned to their individual conversations and personal relaxation.

"Another half-joor," Prowl murmured as he sank into the soft bliss of the hot oil.

"Agreed." Jazz sighed, sinking into the warm oil and the comforting sensation of a very content companion. It was something that was entirely too rare in his existence, and he was almost sad when Prowl moved to get up. With a sigh he followed Prowl from the oil to the rinse showers and the dryers, enjoying the view if not the fact that he had to move. Though if Prowl was as inclined for fun as he seemed to be with that kiss, once they got to the berth it would be worth the move.

Either way, moving was required and that meant Jazz had to walk to the lift with Prowl, select the correct floor and then lead his lover for the night to his small but nicely appointed suite. They entered into the living room/ dinning room/ office and passed through with little comment to the files, evidence and other work materials strewn about, and headed into the berthroom with its Praxian-grade berth.

The berths, even the common ones, were a luxury that Jazz had come to enjoy in Praxus. More than once he had been tempted to import one to his apartment in Iacon, he just never been able to justify the cost. Especially when one considered how little time he actually spent in the apartment.

Still, the thought teased at his processor again as he relaxed back on the padding, Prowl following him down with ease for another kiss that was soon more passionate. Prowl's glossa caressed Jazz's lips, demonstrating a complete willingness to take control. With a sigh of surrender Jazz relaxed on the berth, lip plates parting as he purred in pleasure. It wasn't often that he was in this sort of mood, willing to hand control over to another, but Praxian was attractive, both in frame and personality in a way that tempted Jazz to do just that.

When the kiss ended both their engines were purring. "Any preferences?" Prowl asked as he began to kiss his way along Jazz's jawline while one hand crept up to circle a stubby sensor horn.

"Wouldn't mind a nice spike." Jazz said, helm tilting to lean into the touch. "What do you say to filling me?"

"I like that idea," Prowl rumbled as his lip plates began to caress neck cabling.

A dark hand reached up to caress the bold chevron gracing Prowl's helm. "It's not an offer I make often."

"Then I am honored," Prowl rumbled, his spike cover retracting without a direct command. "And I will make it good."

"I believe you." Jazz smiled, hips rolling up against Prowl's and smearing them with lubricant, valve cover already retracted. Prowl shivered with a low moan and shifted his hips and frame to sink into the offered valve, feeling the stretch and slick lubricant as he slowly pressed in until their housings rubbed together.

"So very nice." Jazz purred, frame relaxed as his valve rippled, working around the spike in smooth waves as it slowly pulled out, then slid back in. Prowl's mouth on his neck was an easy turn-on for the Praxian, and Jazz didn't object. It was the fingers rubbing his sensor horn that really worked on him, and the rev of Prowl's engine as he played with the Praxian's chevron.

With a sigh of pleasure at the slow, gentle attention that was so mutual Jazz reached around with his free hand, finding a wing to stroke. It pressed into his touch as Prowl moaned, a spike of pleasure flaring in his field. His purr deepened, frame rolling to meet Prowl's as his field flared out, reaching to caress the Praxian in yet another way, exploring this new lover.

Prowl's field caressed back, surging into Jazz's frame to drag a moan from him with far more skill than Jazz expected from anyone other than a high-end pleasurebot. It took decades of ornly practice to learn to master field play so well. It was a surprise, but a very pleasant one, and one that Jazz was determined to enjoy as he started sync his motions, hands, valve, and field moving together in a way to caress all he could of his lover at once. The slid of pleasure from the other and how completely Prowl pleasured him back made the source of their joint overload difficult to track, and neither cared as the charge cascaded through and around their frames, leaping between them as they both stiffened.

"That was very good." Jazz purred when he finally regained the use of his vocalizer, reaching up to catch Prowl's helm in his hands for a deep kiss of thanks. It was returned eagerly, willingly and happily.

"Indeed it was," Prowl purred when they finally parted. "Sated?"

"I can be, if you are. If not, I'm willing to return the favor." Jazz offered, field full of contentment.

"Perhaps when we boot up," Prowl purred and shifted to the side as he pulled out. "It sounds good, but recharge sounds better."

"Agreeable." Jazz said, as he moved around to snuggle flush against Prowl's frame, nuzzling the Praxian as he settled in and his field spread out in a relaxed warmth.

* * *

The tension in the air at the precinct could be cut with a knife, and Jazz was just as grim as any of them. The stress had already been high with the last murder, and the realization that the killer was fast approaching his usual threshold number- the number of kills before he dropped off the radar and reappeared at random in some other city to start killing once more.

Only this time the killer had thrown one more at them, and this time he had taken one of the their own. From the unit specially put together to track him down no less. Crosshair had been found mutilated and gray in his apartment late the orn he had failed to come in to the precinct and failed to return all calls.

There was mockery in the murder- the junior detective restrained with his own cuffs, optics melted away, and taunting glyphs carved into the Praxian's sensor wings.

Yet among the Enforcers who knew the details, there was a kind of excitement too, excitement that Jazz couldn't begin to wrap his processors around. It was like this was a _good_ thing, that an Enforcer had been targeted.

"Care to fill me in on why the loss of one of our own can possibly have any good angle?" Jazz asked softly as he came up beside Prowl to view the case details and images spread on the main holotable.

"Enforcers have a special memory core and sensor systems. Admissible in court as forensic evidence, everything he has seen and recorded is in that core and can be accessed. Not just of who murdered him, but of all that happened upwards of a breem and a half after his spark guttered," Prowl explained. "We'll finally have a face and frame to go with our killer."

Jazz's jaw dropped for a moment as he started at Prowl. "So, we might have the break we need. How long to retrieve the information?"

"Three to five joors, assuming there are no unexpected surprises. The autopsy has to happen first, but both are slotted as top priority and everything else is being dropped to deal with it as soon as the body arrives," Prowl explained. "Just because we know critical information is there, we won't shortcut the process. There is no telling what else he learned. Crosshair was a detective. He would have gotten all the information out of his killer he could."

"Very true, and hopefully our killer didn't know that everything said and done would be recorded. Most sadistic killers don't think to keep quiet when they know the witness will deactivate," Jazz nodded. "Even if it's frustrating, because it leaves us with nothing to do but sit on our skidplates and wait." Jazz sighed, field brushing against Prowl's in a sense of mixed frustration and hope.

"I know," Prowl's field brushed back, much in the same state but far more steady and patient.

"Got anything else to work on until then?" Jazz asked, not nearly as patient as the Praxian when it came to situations like this.

"Take him to the tactical range," Twister spoke up without looking over. "Find out if he knows enough to come on the arrest."

"Yes, sir," Prowl dipped his slender sensor wings and turned to leave with a light touch on Jazz arm.

"Was that an insult, or a compliment?" Jazz asked once they were well out of audial range. He already knew that being responsible for him was considered grunt work, but Prowl seemed to have forgiven Jazz for the assignment.

Jazz, at least, had come to enjoy the company of his guide and escort. As well as developed a great deal of respect for the skill and drive of the mech who had worked his way up from the bottom, and was still climbing rapidly.

"Neither," Prowl answered easily as they walked, the Praxian in the lead. "You have the standing to come and no one doubts you have the skill. However if you are not sufficiently familiar with our tactics, you would be more hindrance than asset."

"True enough." Jazz agreed. "Time to see if I pass the test."

Not that Jazz was anything less than confident that he would catch on to what he needed to know if there were gaps in his knowledge. After being involved in this case for so long, he had no intention of being anywhere but at the takedown when it occurred. He also didn't get the vibe from Prowl that the goal was to keep him away.

The walk wasn't long, and Jazz was a bit surprised to find the training facility under the precinct. It wasn't where he'd put a place where you set off explosions and might need to change the setup regularly.

As they stepped off the lift Jazz really did frown as he faced a hallway with doors spaced along it indicating the rooms weren't much more than thirty paces wide.

Prowl lead him to the second one on the right and palmed it open. "Ever been in a hardlight training room?"

"Apparently not." Jazz said, tilting his helm to look around the Praxian as the door slid open. "My instructors are very...hands on, when it comes to training."

Prowl nodded and stepped into the empty room, then immediately to the right onto a lift that rose into a small control room. "That has its uses too. This is particularly good for tactical training."

As Jazz watched through the large window into the empty room, translucent walls appeared, then three generic Enforcers by the door. Intrigued, he let his attention shift. A small percentage of it remained on Prowl, but more switched over to the scene before him.

"The others in your unit will be control by myself and the system," Prowl drew Jazz's attention back. "Your goal is to clear the building, not allow any bystanders to be damaged and to apprehend or deactivate your target." He handed Jazz a thin datapad with a profile on it. "There's your target. There is a 91.3% probability he is in the building. Your unit leader is Soar, the other two are Kimble and Recoil."

"Got it. Sounds like fun. Be back ina few kliks." Jazz said, bounding on the tips of his pedes for a few seconds before stepping onto the lift and down to the floor of the room.

The booth vanished behind him as he was swallowed in the simulation, but Jazz appreciated that fact as he allowed his processor to drop into the situation, allowing it to become real. Sensors rocketed to high alert as the hunter instinct took over and he settled into the team. They even teeked real with a mixture of excitement and tension.

"Jazz, point. Kimble third," Soar ordered as weapons were checked and Jazz was handed a device he recognized well. It would unlock almost any door. "Questions?"

"Nope. Just need a 'go'." Jazz said, flipping the device with ease in his hand as he stepped forward, already falling in to his assigned position.

Soar gave a flick of his wings and all three Enforcers went silent.

A slight twitch of Jazz's helm was his own confirmation as he moved forward, into the lead. The first locked door that he encountered was textbook, and fell in a few nanokliks.

Clear the room, then continue. It was a routine that he was well familiar with, and he quickly fell into a working rhythm with the team. They were professional, competent and didn't make any serious mistakes. A quarter of the way through, by Jazz's estimate, and Soar tapped the back of Jazz's shoulder with a simple touch-code. It wasn't the one he knew best, but he recognized the basic dialect of the command anyway.

_Take second place._

Kimble then took the lead for the next floor.

Jazz settled back, following the Praxian before him at a safe distance while watching the other's back.

It wasn't his back he should have been worried about though, as through the next door Kimble went down.

 _Officer down._ Jazz hand signaled, using the closest thing he knew in signal the Praxian code that had been used for him before sliding into cover and looking for the shooter as he tried to get a good read on Kimble. The downed Enforcer was still alive, though if Jazz was any judge, he wouldn't be for long given the size of the energon pool growing under and around him.

Long vorns of training and far more of hard won experience enabled Jazz to zero in on the shooter. It wasn't their target.

An assailant was an assailant. Jazz lifted his weapon and fired, bringing the shooter to ground. Another scan and the feel of the others coming up behind him prompted him to move to Kimble's side. He was in bad shape. It was a single shot, but it hit a vulnerable point at the doorwing joint and even with systems trying to staunch the flow it didn't stop.

After a moment of consideration Jazz put together an encrypted compact file and sent it over a burst comm. If he was lucky, someone would reach Kimble in time to save his spark. If not, Jazz couldn't risk compromising the mission any more.

That done, he took up the last position in the line, as his two remaining squad mates had already moved on. He moved smoothly and silently to catch up with them, falling on the tail end of what was now a team of three, sensors tuned mostly to the rear, trusting the others to be aware of what was ahead.

The flick of sensors panels in a complex pattern in front of him caught Jazz's attention, and even though he was only able to interpret about two-thirds of it he was very clued in on what they had found.

The scuffling and the small sounds of distress were bystanders caught in the raid. The frightened optics that met his as he stopped in the door were noted and dismissed. He wasn't point, so what to do with them was not his decision to make. Between what he knew of wing-commands and what the others were doing, he was quick to work out that Soar wanted them secured, then left.

It was a quick process. Jazz and Recoil cuffed them to each other, and Recoil wing-spoke to the half dozen, assuring them that when the raid was over they'd be freed. Then he ordered them to make their way outside by lift three.

Recoil lingered long enough to make sure that the orders were being obeyed as Jazz set off on point again, Soar close behind him. More rooms, more levels cleared. Most were empty. On the sixth floor Jazz froze when he took in the first room and the trap that would have been missed by most. The trigger was a small device, easily mistaken as a non-integrated door sensor. Jazz knew better. He didn't know what it set off, but it triggered something.

He waited until he knew that Soar had a clear line of sight on him before using the signal for 'trap' and clearly indicating where the trigger was, waiting for confirmation of understanding.

The Praxian nodded, then signaled Jazz to deactivate it.

With a quick motion Jazz had his sidearm ready to draw in a blink before moving in on the trigger. Sensors on high alert he circled it carefully, then dropped down to inspect the trigger more on level.

He relaxed a bit once he had the better look. The trigger was not overly complex once you got close. The elegance of it was in its subtlety and apparent belonging in the environment, not in complex construction.

In fact, the tools he needed were sitting in his subspace, and he pulled them out quickly, flipping open the kit and getting to work. A weight, a thin blade, a few cut wires, and the tools vanished again just before Jazz signaled the 'clear'.

His companions were still understandably wary as they crossed the line where they would trip it, then quickly settled into a normal search tension. Even without knowing, it seemed so very likely that their target was inside.

For a change the room wasn't locked, and that fact set Jazz on edge as he palmed it open and stepped inside. A hiss in the right corner demanded his attention.

The sound spurred him forward full speed, away from the noise to the other side of the room before turning to face the sound. Soar had already taken two shots at the ... _thing_ ... mech-like but with tentacles reaching out. They grabbed Soar, tearing his chest plates open like the heavy Enforcer armor was foil and suddenly Soar was limp and graying and his still-pulsing spark chamber was pulled towards the monster. Recoil had already backed away, but only to clear a bit of space as he went for his much heavier backup weapon.

Jazz circled away, pulling a personal weapon out of his subspace and looking for a weak spot. There was no time to pay attention to the terror in his spark as he acted, leveling the heavy blaster and firing off several shots. The monster of myth and nightmares came forward though, after Jazz and ignoring Recoil to its right until the Enforcer had a shot at its back.

"Down!" Recoil shouted at Jazz just before launching a plasma missile at the creature.

The weapon was processed and Jazz didn't need to be warned twice as he moved, darting out of the way and rolling smoothly to put as much distance as he could between him and the monster.

The roll ended with him on his pedes, weapon at the ready in case Recoil's missile failed to take the target down, but the only movement from the half-vaporized frame was the momentum carrying it to the ground. The flames licked over Jazz's frame, burning and painful, but not critical.

"That ... that..." Recoil just kept stammering, his frame beginning to tremble as he tried to truly process what he'd seen.

"Yeah. Bad." Jazz said, moving carefully closer to Recoil, optics on the burning mass in the corner of the room. He opened a comm, ready to make a report. The face of the monster was the face of the target. That report just didn't indicate the extras.

::Has the target been neutralized?:: Prowl's voice came back with a signal that he was acting as the strike manager.

::Target neutralized and still burning. Soar is gone. Recoil appears to be on the edge of a processor lock-up. Orders?:: Jazz reported and requested.

::Stay put and see if you can keep Recoil grounded. Quiet's unit will be there shortly.:: Prowl responded.

::Heard.:: Jazz responded, leaving the line open as he shifted his attention to his current teammate, managing to extract the launcher from the mech's hands and carefully move all other weapons that he could see out of easy reach. He talked quietly, rambling about nothing important until another unit called for permission to enter. By then Recoil had begun to calm down and seemed far more steady, though he was still decidedly freaked out. "Clear!" Jazz called back to them, and it wasn't long before six mecha -- more than just Quiet's team, entered with the same care Jazz would have done.

"What happened?" Quiet asked as two others moved to bag the body up for transport.

"Target was a spark-eater. Got Soar before he got a shot off. Recoil took it down with a plasma missile. It's got him pretty shook up though." Jazz summed up, more calm on the surface then he really felt in his spark as other took over Recoil.

"Head out. Prowl wants a debrief," Quiet told him.

With a quick nod Jazz simply headed off in the direction of the door that he had entered through, processor slowly dropping out of mission mode. By the time he walked out of the building and the simulation faded, he was back to himself and smiled a warm greeting as Prowl descended from the control room.

"While not every choice was how we are trained, you made no actual mistakes," Prowl summarized. "You need to learn hand codes better, however."

"Just gemmie a file." Jazz offered, pleased with the evaluation. While perfect would have been nice, he had been introduced to reality a long time ago. "Where did I screw up with it?"

"You took longer than most to interpret the more complex silent signals, which while undesirable isn't actually a serious fault," Prowl said as he pinged the file over. "The questionable choice was when you broke comm silence. It could well have given the target enough warning that he was ready for you."

"One spark that had a chance. And the target was not labeled kill at all cost." Jazz said with a shrug. "What would you have done?"

Prowl cocked his helm. "At all cost to us means that civilian casualties are acceptable. Enforcers are created to extinguish in the line of duty. I would have allowed him to extinguish if he did not last long enough for the mission to end."

"And is that something you agree to as an enlistee as well?" Jazz asked as they left the training station.

"Of course," Prowl teeked a bit confused. "No matter how one comes into the force, one is an Enforcer first and last."

"Huh." Jazz's armor fluffed and settled in a shrug as he contemplated that, so different from how he thought. "Sparked or kindled?" he asked abruptly, knowing he was digging into what was a touchy subject for some, but in a way not caring.

"Sparked, just not an Enforcer," Prowl answered, relaxed about the truth in the way that many were in a culture of their own kind.

"Sparked for what then, that you settled so well into this?"

That did create tension in Prowl's frame and more in his field, flickers of shame and anger, but he still answered. "City management."

"That sounds like something you would have been really good at." Jazz said softly, not questioning why Prowl was no longer there, or how he had ended up where he was now because of it. In his own way, he understood choices being forced on a mech, and he also knew when to back off.

"Far too good," was Prowl's somewhat cryptic reply as they entered the lift.

The rest of the trip back to the unit's main work room was made in silence, Jazz quietly contemplating the mech at his side, trying to fit together some more of the pieces that made up the Praxian that he had come to respect on a professional level and was starting to like on a more personal one. He only half listened as Prowl gave his report to the team, the same report he'd given Jazz, though more formal in format. There were approving and relieved sensor wing flicks and looks when Prowl was done, and at least two checked the recording to see for themselves.

The approval felt good in a way, something that Jazz wasn't used to any more since he rarely worked in a team setting where he was able to be himself. He wandered over to the main holotable, thoughts still mostly on Prowl as he appeared to look over the evidence for yet another time.

The review of his training exercise was interrupted by a new signal, accompanied by a great deal of excitement from the Praxian unit around him. It took Jazz an extra moment to place both signal and the cause, and he felt a surge of anticipation in himself.

Forensics had begun to upload Crosshair's memory files, starting with the newest, and thus the most important to this case. The entire team gathered around the holotable as the final joors played.

It was a painful three joors, and watching would have made any normal mech purge their tanks several times over. Their killer took visible pleasure in torturing his victims to deactivation, and he held no punches.

Verbal taunting mixed with the application of precise pain over Crosshair's frame, and it was easy to pick out those on the team who had either been coded or had experience mute their empathy to the point where it didn't bother them.

Jazz knew from experience that this was a short time for the killer, and suspected it was predominantly because Crosshair wasn't giving him much by way of feedback. He'd ask questions, but he didn't scream. He didn't plead, or beg, which Jazz was sure had been major components of the other killings. The mech, the killer, appeared so normal on the surface. Until they were looking right into the flaming orange optics from Crosshair's point of view.

Listening to the taunts, the glyphs, made all the more creepy by way the killer's tone went from gentle one klik to menacing the next. They watched as Crosshair continued to confound the killer's efforts to get a reaction, and Jazz wondered how much was coding and how much was from being sparked without fear of deactivation and knowing that whether he survived this or not, his processors would break the case wide open.

Every single mech in the unit saw the killer, saw the one that had taken so many sparks and the spark of one their own, and etched it in their processors.

The slender grounder frame with it dark green coloration, orange highlights, and common features was what they were hunting.

And thanks to Crosshair's skill and sacrifice, they had action and vocal patterns, and even field and spark readings. There would be no mistaking who it was when they caught him, no way for it to be a case where they arrested the wrong mech.

* * *

They were sitting far enough from the road to not be noticed, but where they could see all the traffic coming and going from the customs checkpoint clearly. The officials at the checkpoint were all informed and on alert, well aware of their duties and the role they needed to play. 

They were on the lookout for the killer. When they spotted him they were to allow him to pass through normally, but alert the teams waiting to take him down. Each customs station had a full SWAT team, two pursuit specialists and one detective from the task force waiting for the signal. If he escaped, it was time to reevaluate the level of imperial involvement and the bounty on his helm.

But a stakeout was a lot of hurry up and wait compared to the actual action, so Jazz settled down more comfortably on his wheels and nudged Prowl lightly through their just touching fields. "So what happens to you after we take this mech down?"

"I return to my precinct and my regular case load," Prowl answered easily, and with a touch of genuine anticipation in his field. "It will be good to be home again."

"You prefer regular work to special assignments like this one?"

"Decidedly," Prowl said without any hesitation. "I am much more efficient and can assist more when I am familiar with the precinct and its players. Many times in the task force I have known who I could have talked to and how to persuade them to cooperate if this had been in my precinct. Here knew neither, and most of the task force was in the same situation."

"Still managed to mesh well enough." Jazz decided after some consideration. "What sort of duty suits you best?" He asked, curious. He had learned over time that many of Prowl's preferences were based on what made him feel the most useful and efficient.

Prowl mulled that over for several kliks. "From what I know, command. My systems were designed with management as their focus. Though I have had little actual experience in it yet, what times I have been called on to organize a shift or rescue effort I have excelled and it came more naturally than any other duty I have attempted. I am good at whatever I have focused on, however organizing personnel, supplies and priorities comes the most naturally."

"So in the scheme of the Enforcer's hierarchy, is there is a rank or position you're shooting for?" Jazz asked, already turning several over in his processor that might suit Prowl, and wondering if he would be worth recruiting on the Imperial level some orn.

"Lieutenant, possibly captain," Prowl answered. "Though to listen to some of the others, I shouldn't stop until I'm the Lord of Law."

"Do you think you would enjoy that sort of position?" Jazz asked, feeling for the level of Prowl's personal ambition.

"From his schedule, he does more politics and socializing than real work," Prowl's field gave a small shudder at the idea. "No, I have no intention of advancing past the point where I am useful."

"That is work, and useful, in it's own way." Jazz pointed out, teasing the Praxian gently. "But nah. From what I've seen of ya, you would be miserable like that. Playing aide to someone doing the work, maybe, but not doing it yourself."

"He is only needed because the system is corrupt," Prowl grumbled. "If we had the authority and respect to do our function, such a post would not be needed."

"Never going to happen mech, even if it is a nice dream." Jazz sighed. "Never going to escape politics." Though Prowl could possibly be farther from them if he was willing to step into Jazz's world. It was something that Jazz made a note to mention to his commander. A mech who loved to travel and had only middle-management ambitions at most with a hatred of politics could do very well in their world.

"Unfortunately, I believe you are correct," Prowl set out a huffing sigh. "The universe would be much better off without that much hate, backstabbing and greed being accepted as normal."

"Once again, true. And once again, not likely to happen." Jazz sighed, then perked up a little. "So what happens right after we get this mech? You get a couple orns break, by any chance?"

"Only if I'm damaged enough to need it," Prowl answered, the harmonics curious. "I'll likely be on desk duty for an orn or two to catch up."

"Ah. I like a couple orns to celebrate and defrag after a debriefing from a mission. Like it even better when I have someone to share them with." Jazz offered by way of explanation as he settled back down.

He should have known better than expect the Praxian to do anything like take some personal time to unwind. Not one as devoted to work and duty as Prowl.

"Oh," Prowl said as the reasoning clicked. "Nothing like that. Enforcers don't operate under the same protocols as civilians."

"Understood. I'll just head back earlier than I was planning." Jazz replied with a shrug, scanning comm and broadcast channels as a side task while his processor settled. The silence held until the alert pinged to warn them that their target had entered customs. A klik later they received a ping with his current ID, visual and alt mode.

"Let's go," Prowl revved his engine and activated the rolling net that would close around their target.

"On it." Jazz said, shooting forward in formation with Prowl and feeling as the rest of the SWAT units closed in with them, encircling the startled mech in a cage of law enforcement in less than a klik. Prowl flashed his lights, silently ordering the mech to pull over.

The dark green racing frame slowed obediently, folding up into a slender root mode. Bright orange optics took in the show of force, apparently trying to pin-point who was in charge. He couldn't seem to decide if it was Prowl, who'd pulled him over, or the obvious not-Enforcer next to him.

"Sidestep, you are under arrest for the murders of Detective Crosshair, After Wing, Thunderblank, Saltbolt, Cloudtread, Silvershot, Dragsmasher, Grimhawk, Dark-Bot, Leoabout, Dragsling, Buzzbeater, Slipstorm, Slipglass, Crankclaw, Speedtrack, Ultra Blow, Gun Fang, Racebar, Afterswing, Slapbox, Wolfsaw, Slingburner, Railblock, Seapunch, Slipbeam, Omegaswing, Ultrahaul, Arch-X, Fallpounder, Grandtron, Rain Bug, Jetjack, Darkcrasher, Omegajumper, Silverslide, Tophide, Skipcrash, Wind Shot, Treadbreaker and Dark Snarl," Prowl listed off all the known victims. "Palms on the back of your helm and kneel."

For a split second it looked as though the mech was going to resist, then a smug smile crossed his face as he complied, kneeling. "So you figured it out? So many sparks, so much fun." He purred.

"Then your fun is over," Prowl said evenly as he stepped up and cuffed him. "I doubt you will see trial."

"Really? You think you can stop that?" The mech laughed, optics taking on a brighter light. This close Prowl was fully exposed to the riot of emotion in his field, rushing excitement and arousal.

"Myself, no," Prowl said calmly as the transport arrived. "I would not even try. He's another matter," he twitched a wing towards Jazz.

"I'm not gonna try either." Jazz answered just as smoothly, stepping up to help Prowl load the mech. "But the mecha I work for, that might be a whole different story."

"Ramp-up. Ramp-up!" The mech called, laughing. "You're wrong. They can't hide it. All of Cybertron will know my designation."

Prowl shrugged his sensor wings slightly as he got the killer into the transport, locked him down at pedes, wrists and neck, then sat down with two of the SWAT officers. He glanced at Jazz, inviting the imperial agent in.

::They'll follow correct procedure.:: Jazz commented to Prowl as he settled in the transport across the Praxian, one optic on the twitching captive as they started to move.

::Then I will be prepared to testify,:: Prowl said with that same even tone, but Jazz couldn't help but think he was a bit disappointed. ::Will Praxus prosecute him first?::

::As wide as his crimes stretch, I don't know.:: Jazz replied. ::What would you like to see happen to him?::

::I am partial to Praxian justice, though it would leave nothing for anyone else to punish. His kind are best dealt with quickly, quietly and permanently,:: Prowl said simply.

::There won't be anything left of him when my bosses are done with him, one way or another.:: Jazz assured him. ::Praxus could apply to prosecute him first, but with as many other cities as want a piece of him, I'm betting Iacon will make a planet-wide example of him and call it done.::

Prowl paused and looked up Iacon's execution method. ::Yes, I expect a smelter would do the job. I still prefer our method. There is something to be said about the effects of watching a mecha melt from the inside out.::

::Very true. And either method fitting for this one.:: Jazz sighed, images of multiple crimes scenes tied to the case flowing through his processor.

::So long as the trial is quick, clean and the city does not have a long appeals process,:: Prowl agreed. ::I do not want this one to remain an escape hazard for long. Not that it is truly my concern or choice.::

::Agreed, on all counts.:: Jazz replied, going quiet and managing to ignore the rambling jibes and taunts of Ramp-up as the transport rolled along, the trip aided by the Enforcer escort surrounding them and clearing the way.


	3. Rekindling Trust

Prowl sat in the back row of the shuttle by choice. As an officer, he could have been up front, but he still didn't particularly trust his 'fellow Autobots' and didn't expect he ever would. It wasn't just his status in SpecOps either. He knew that didn't help, but the truth was that he'd seen far too much in this volunteer army to believe in them. To be honest, he didn't really believe in their cause either. He was here, and still functioning, to avenge the destruction of Praxus, and so he soldiered on as a soldier in the Prime's army. He rarely saw combat, or even a true mission, but he'd come to accept that as well. His best use, both to the army, to his division and to his personal goal was right where he was: acting as a tactician.

He needed decades yet, but he was a rising star among them, already noticed by the Prime. In time he would be the Prime's Tactician, the highest rank in the field and functionally in charge of the army and so much more.

Once he had that, he could finish his oath to Praxus, and perhaps find a new function.

The transport began to descend, and Prowl was granted the first view of the base that was the final destination. From first glace it appeared in good repair and well kept. Of moderate size, it served as training ground for new recruits, and a temporary base of recovery for injured mecha transitioning back to active duty. It was a facility that saw large numbers come and go every orn, which made it valuable to SpecOps as a staging and training ground, but also made it very vulnerable to infiltration. Prowl was here to see to both, and far more.

It would also be his first real test as an under cover operative for Autobot SpecOps, and he was grateful that the base's SpecOps commander was someone he had known and worked well with.

The shuttle set down and began to discharge its complement, and Prowl made no hurry to leave. He liked to watch how mecha moved, judging them before they had much to judge him on. His time as an Autobot had taught him well the value of being unnoticed, or seen as only part of the scenery.

One mech in particular caught his attention. The rumors that the base commander, a moderate frame mech of Iconian build, made it a point to try and meet all newcomers in person was apparently true. The gray and green mech not only greeted each mech, but knew their designation on sight as they departed the shuttle. It was quite reminiscent of when a new recruit arrived at a precinct. Everyone knew who they were. It was comforting.

Standby's gaze locked onto Prowl and the Praxian gave a reflexive sensor wing flick of greeting as he walked up and saluted.

"Lieutenant Prowl." Standby acknowledged him with a nod. "Welcome. I have heard much about you, and I look forward to seeing your work firsthand."

"Thank you, Sir," Prowl accepted the greeting and the complement smoothly. "Your reputation also precedes you. I believe we can work well together."

Standby waved a hand, an invitation for Prowl to walk with him as he started towards the main office complex on base. "I think you will find many of your assignments here less battle oriented than before, but with your background, I think you will still perform at above efficient levels. While this base provides a crucial service to the Autobot cause, any place that costs can be cut and efficiency can be improved without jeopardizing performance or moral is a benefit to everyone."

"Yes sir," Prowl accepted the shift in priorities. "I will begin reviewing standing procedures and organization immediately and forward recommendations to you."

Standby's field teeked of approval, and a hint of amusement. He had been warned about this particular aspect of Prowl though, so was not caught off guard or surprised. "While I appreciate your dedication and work ethic, you do have an orn to settle in. The welcome packet includes your housing assignment, and a general map of the base and surrounding area. Why don't you unpack, and then spend the day looking around and getting a feel for being here. You can start officially tomorrow." He suggested.

"Yes, sir," Prowl accepted the down time with less fuss that he often would. It would give him time to check in with his unit commander and settle his priority tree to a duty set he hadn't had in a long time.

"Your orientation file is waiting for you in the main office, and they'll enter your codes into the system for your clearances." Standby informed Prowl, pointing in the directions of a long, low building. "Welcome to Base Portal."

"Thank you sir," Prowl said and headed inside to get the admin part of his orn out of the way. It was a good place to start his investigation, to see just how careful they were with IDing new arrivals. He left a joor later respectably impressed with the process. While not infallible, it would stand up to most efforts that didn't have deep cover backgrounds. It was definitely not the easiest way to get into the system as someone else.

He followed the map to his quarters next. The door open to the generic code he had been given, the room bright with interior lights, and a mech sitting on the berth facing the door.

"Commander Jazz," Prowl greeted him with polite formality after the door closed behind him.

"Lt. Prowl." Jazz said, nodding with the formality he knew that Prowl liked, then smiling a little as he added another greeting. "Nice to see you again, I think."

"That is my understanding as well," Prowl said agreeably. "Though my identity is easy to trace for you, at least back to when I became an Enforcer in Praxus."

Jazz nodded in agreement. "I'm sorry."

"As am I," Prowl murmured, his elegant sensor wings dipping in the grief that was still very much a part of him. "What are my orders for this assignment?"

"Plan all missions for the division, without it getting out to the Prime that you actually belong to us." Jazz said, legs falling over the edge of the berth to swing casually. "Some things he ain't real reasonable on, and this seems to be one of them. Think he believes he can keep some sort of moral guidelines in place for us."

It was a belief that both of them knew was impossible. Morals and laws of decency existed, and for a reason, but they had no place in the shadow world that claimed both of them.

"Then no changes from my pre-mission briefing," Prowl nodded as his sensor wings relaxed slightly. "Who on base do I need to be careful of?"

Jazz pointed to a datachip on the berth beside him. "A present for you. Should have all the inside info you need on the commoners on base. Standby will keep you busy enough that your cover should be safe. He's pretty good about keepin' his nose out of our business, less we do something that interrupts the normal running of the base."

Prowl nodded and took the datachip. He inserted it into a special reader designed for SpecOps work and let the hardware and software involved ensure the data was safe before he downloaded and began to integrate it. "That is good to hear. An agreeable commander makes functioning much easier."

"I'd say he's the best I've worked with so far, that's not one of us. Speaking of which-," Jazz's helm tilted to one side as he regarded Prowl curiously. "How did you get sucked into being one of us?"

"Politics," Prowl said simply. "Praxian Ops eventually convinced the Lord of Law that I was more valuable working for them, which meant that Whiplash snapped me up when I enlisted in the Autobots after the attack."

"So not exactly a path you chose for yourself." Jazz commented. "You seem to have settled in well enough, though, from the reports I've seen."

"It is not one I ever objected to either," Prowl said agreeably. "You remember how much I enjoyed being a detective. Ops work was much the same much of the time, as is being a tactician. I miss patrolling, but little else."

"Glad to hear. Still like a hot bath as much as before?" Jazz asked, prodding at Prowl.

"Even more, now that they are hard to come by," the Praxian's sensor wings gave a flutter and he _purred_. "There is one on base?"

"We do have some perks." Jazz informed him, pleased to find that there was some of the Praxian he had remembered from before. On a personal level was curious to find out if more of the Prowl he had know still existed under the polished, professional, and much colder mech before him.

He pinged Prowl a set of coordinates and specific joor late in the orn. "Meet me. I'll give you your tour, and really get you entered into the security system."

"I will be there," Prowl promised, the eagerness evident in his field if not much in his frame. "Perhaps there will be time for more than a tour?"

The question pulled a real smile from Jazz as he stood. "I think so, with enough time for you to get recharge and report to Standby tomorrow." He walked up to Prowl and carefully put a hand on the slightly taller mecha's shoulder and relaxed when the field he teeked on touching was the same one he'd teeked at range. "I'm glad you survived, and to see you again."

"I'm pleased you survived, and have done so well for yourself," Prowl replied, relaxing at the familiar touch, even if it was not one he'd spent that much time with. "It's good to work with someone who knows me."

"Agreed." Jazz sighed, offering the shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping back. "I'll leave you to Standby's order's then, and see you later."

It was a statement of hope and promise as Jazz turned to let himself out, crossing the small room with silent grace. He knew Prowl watched him leave, and that the Praxian had held still for a moment longer before beginning to investigate the space and secure it before he unpacked his few belongings.

* * *

The coordinates that Jazz had given Prowl led him to the official office of Special Operations, the one that the rest of the base was allowed to see and know was there. In truth, what they saw and what was real were two different things, but that was not something that the common mecha needed to know.

Two of the desks in the open room were occupied by rather bored looking mechs. As Prowl entered both looked up, and one of them offered an easy wave in the direction of a back office before returning to whatever he had been doing. Prowl gave a wing-flick in reply, already aware of who they were and what they could do from their tactical files, but he gave them no more thought as he went into the back office, a place that was one of many entry points to the secluded and well-guarded home of SpecOps. Though most would assume it was guarded to protect secrets, it was really guarded to protect the common mecha from them. When an agent needed to be untangled or just relax, they needed safety and security, but far more, they needed to _believe_ they were safe and secure. The outside world was no place for a jittery agent that would lash out at the lightest provocation.

"Prowl." Jazz was sitting behind the desk in the back office, pedes propped up on the top as he leaned back in the desk chair. He dropped back into a normal sitting position and tossed the datapad he had been looking at the desktop. "So what do you think so far?"

"This base is very well run and far more secure than I anticipated," Prowl said easily, an honest assessment. "Whoever designed the protocols knew what they were doing, and those in charge have not changed a good system."

"High praise, coming from you." Jazz observed as he stood. "Ready to see the rest of it?"

"Yes," Prowl gave a wing-flick and stepped close enough to brush his field against Jazz's. He didn't hide that he was looking forward to the tour, or that he was inclined to spend the night with Jazz.

The darker mech's field brushed back, agreement and a touch of surprise in it, but also acceptance as he transmitted the code that lifted the desk, the entire unit and the floor beneath rising to reveal the entrance to a lift.

"Ours." He announced as Prowl followed him in and they descended, the office fading from the view and reveling a world of familiar to Prowl. A nightmare to those who were Ops's targets, but peace and safety to the mecha who occupied that same world.

They departed the lift and Jazz waved Prowl to the right. Whatever he did caused a door to slide away, and Prowl found himself stepping into Jazz's _real_ office. Trophies lined the wall, some harmless plaques from dance competitions and games, many of them naming places that Prowl suspected or knew no longer existed.

Other were much more gruesome- bits of armor and plating, mixed with weapons and three spark chambers. Prowl focused on those, his sensor wings rising in curiosity.

"Turncoats," Jazz answered simply. "A reminder that I make mistakes."

Prowl nodded his understanding as his sensor wings settled. "I think we all keep those in some form."

Jazz nodded once in agreement, a screen rising out of the center console for him to key in some commands. "Stand there." He pointed to an off color tile on the floor. "We'll get you scanned in, the general tour, and then a date in the re-acclamation center."

Prowl complied smoothly, settling his frame and relaxing into the deep frame and systems scan that would make it functionally impossible for an imposter to claim to be him, even if they'd been modified to look and act the part flawlessly. It was incredibly intrusive to many mecha, but for Prowl it was nothing he minded.

"Done." Jazz announced one the computer indicated it was happy, a readout of all of Prowl's norms and quirks displayed in front of him. "All the rooms and locks down here are system scan code. Anything that you should have access too will let you. Anything that you aren't will refuse."

"Understood, and as expected," Prowl twisted a sensor wing in acceptance. "When was the last attempted break-in?"

"As in an actual infiltration attempt? Almost a vorn, and they are pretty rare. With this being a training base we get stupid rookies who hear stories and come looking about once a metacycle. Most of them don't make it past the front office. The lone one that made it all the way down here is one of us now." Jazz said as he walked over to Prowl, taking the liberty of running a hand down the sensor wing that had moved before taking the lead.

The wing pressed into his hand and Prowl followed. "Not a bad recruitment method. What had he been?"

"Marked as scout potential. Small, smart, fast, and intuitive. We grabbed him and scouting has been glaring at me ever since." Jazz chuckled, as he turned to the right out of the office, leading Prowl to business end of the operation first.'

"I've never completely understood the logic of scouting not being an Ops department. We do half of it anyway, and the other half ends up on our desk."

"Me neither, but it's an argument that we have yet to win, and one that's not worth puttin' a lot of effort into yet." Jazz shrugged, point to various doors as they went along. "A dozen solitary holding cells, two standard interrogations rooms, four special interrogation rooms, two medical cells for prisoners, and disposal."

The last was a room at the very end of the hall, the soft rumble of a small smelting unit running on standby audible through the reinforced door.

"Efficient," Prowl said agreeable. "Do you have many opportunities to use them?"

"Not as much as other bases, but still more than I would like to use them." Jazz said with another shrug as they passed his office once more and started into the other wing of the underground complex.

"You have your own room down here. Private quarters to with as you please. If you need to retreat just pass it on to one of our medics, Larua and Medice. She'll write you a medical leave." Jazz informed Prowl, another perk that made working the functioning they did possible.

"I will, though I do not anticipate needing to, given my assignment here," Prowl said with a mixture of acceptance and regret. "This will not be a home I will be able to visit often."

"Whenever you need." Jazz reiterated. "There are ways to make you appear far more visible then you have to be. And that nice workaholic reputation to hide behind as well."

"Quite true. Only my commanders will expect to see much of me once the base gets to know me," Prowl gave a small twitch of his lip plates in amusement of the truth.

"As for tonight, there is a small communal bath and my quarters, or there is one of the acclimation suites that you could get to know." He offered.

Prowl considered the options. "I believe I would like to become acquainted with my quarters here, and include you in that imprinting process." He paused briefly. "Despite my reputation, I am highly social among my own kind. When stressed, I need company to bond to more than solitude to think."

"So public bath, then your quarters." Jazz summed up, nodding in agreement as they entered the bath, open wash stalls for rinsing facing a small public pool. "Under the spray," he teased with a light push.

"As if I don't know protocol," Prowl flicked a sensor wing dismissively, but his field was warm with humor as he followed directions.

"Just checking. Can't be too careful." Jazz teased back. "Want a some help with those wings of yours?"

"Yes," Prowl offered his back and flared the elegant appendages for Jazz to tend to. "How public is this pool?"

"Personal preference." Jazz answered. "If a mech doesn't wanna participate you respect their wishes. If you want to play and there are others around, they just get to enjoy a good show."

"Understood," Prowl purred softly and pressed his sensor wings into Jazz's hands with a spike of arousal that had nothing to do with being touched.

There was an agreeable chuckle from behind as hands began to clean his frame, just as skilled as Prowl recalled. And testament to Jazz's memory was how well he worked on Prowl, every ticklish spot respected without fail, and those touches that were known to melt the Praxian employed to full effect and without shame.

"I've missed you," Prowl murmured as his frame continued to relax under the spray and touch. "There are not many left who know how to touch."

"Must be another personal thing. I've always loved wing frames, and yours are particularly nice." Jazz commented, moving closer as he spoke to bask in the feel of a field full of pleasure. "Come on, let's get in the oil before you melt," he purred. He couldn't help but smile when Prowl languidly complied, content to be lead.

The way the Praxian sank into the oil was also familiar, and Jazz hovered on the edge to watch and teek it. While there was no shortage of lovers and mecha out for some fun and pleasure here on the base, Prowl was special, and Jazz found that he had missed that little bit of extra that the Praxian brought. Right now, he was enjoying the pleasure that suffused Prowl's field from the heat and slide of the oil as it oozed into every opening and against cabling and components that normally only knew atmosphere. He was reasonably sure that Prowl had indulged in hot oil fairly recently, likely at his last station. Tyger Pax was a substantial facility, and Jazz knew it had them.

"Still a treat?" Jazz finally asked as he slipped into the pool beside Prowl, not even making an attempt to keep his hands to himself with the Praxian's sensor wings so close.

"Very much so," Prowl groaned in pleasure and leaned into the touch. "I could have one in my quarters to indulge in every night and it would remain a treat."

"So how long of a soak, and how much of an acclimation to your quarters are you planning?" Jazz teased, stroking and petting the attractive frame. He had been hopeful when Prowl had been assigned to his base, and his hopes were quickly being fulfilled.

The mech that he recalled working with and actually enjoyed spending down time with was still there, and even more he was starting to believe that the same Prowl he had been starting to trust so long ago was still there as well.

"Mmm, a joor in the oil, and quarters until I need to be on shift," Prowl allowed his optics to drift off and submitted to the touch with the ease of trust, though Jazz could still feel that Prowl was ready to move if he needed to.

"Very agreeable." Jazz sighed, sinking deeper into the oil while one hand continued to stoke a sensor wing lazily. There would be time for the talk of the war and politics later. For now there was time they could steal from reality and enjoy.

"Any new quirks I need to know about? Favorite flavor of energon still the same? Still favor those treats that would strip most mechs taste receptors?" He asked lazily.

"I have a very aggressive emergency boot sequence now and training has only enhanced it," Prowl warned easily. "Probably not as severe as many, though. I am, in the end, fundamentally an admin agent despite my other skills. Yes, my favorite energon is the same, and I still very much enjoy the acidic treats. Though I've come to favor sweeter things when I'm in recovery. I suspect a helm injury was responsible."

"What happened?" Jazz asked, swiveling around to caress higher up on the wing in reach. It shivered and pressed into his touch with a low moan from its owner, but Prowl's field was painfully uneasy as he looked around to double check they were likely alone.

"You read about my glitch?" Prowl's voice was low.

"Of course." Jazz leaned in to nuzzle him. "It can wait until later." He suggested, continuing to message the wing as Prowl relaxed with a thankful flicker through his field. Though the glitch had been there since Prowl's creation, at least according to the file, any glitch was a sensitive subject and something that was a liability at best, and fatal at worst. They weren't something to be discussed lightly or publicly.

"How does command suit you?" Prowl asked for a new subject.

"Kinda like it, for the most part. The mistakes are hard to take, and I miss being out there in the field. Workin' with others took some getting used too." Jazz said. "Working with rookies, training them, it is different as well."

"I can imagine," Prowl purred and shifted to present his full back to Jazz as his armor loosened. "You never came across as an instructor type, though you never lacked for social skills."

"Which is probably the only reason this has worked at all." Jazz commented as he obliged, working on the Praxian's back. While technically Prowl's commander, the Praxian was much more an equal in Jazz's processor, and it was nice to have a mech around that he did not have to be on guard against. They fell into an easy silence, both of them long accustomed to it and both welcoming it when it was like this, without the tension of _waiting_.

Jazz was privately amused that no one came in while they were there, but within kliks of them hauling themselves from the oil and heading for Prowl's reclamation quarters the washrack was in use again.

"Not really much, but it's all yours." Jazz said as he followed Prowl into the small room. The floor and walls were bare, a few fixed shelves empty on the far wall. Only the berth gave any indication of the rooms intended occupant- the double wide frame topped with a deep memory support mattress designed for fliers and wing-frames. The ceiling was also taller than Prowl's frame height would normally get, but Ops had learned long ago that no matter how much a winged frame said they might like to hole up or nest when distressed, giving them an actual bolt-hole was a disaster in the making. The coding that went with useable sensor wings, whether for flight or not, created massive psychological problems when confined with too low a ceiling. It turned out that Seeker nests were built with high walls and little overhead for good reason.

"We have our own storerooms, and you can draw an allotted amount from them. And any personal items that you want to add." Jazz added, waiting for Prowl to check the space out. He wasn't disappointed by the careful though not particularly suspicious inspection, or that Prowl's frame indicated he was not disappointed by what was and wasn't there.

"Thank you," Prowl managed a smile at him when he'd finished and felt settled enough to pay attention to a lover. "Care to try out the padding with me," he purred as he stepped close, his field caressing Jazz's with open desire.

"I should make sure my agents and those in my command are well cared for." Jazz mused, answering desire and playful teasing in his field as he reached up, tilting Prowl's helm down kiss, testing for Prowl's desires. The kiss was warm and welcoming, a match for the arms that slid around him, and tasted more of how relaxed Prowl was from the oil bath than any specific desire.

"And I would like to see how much you remember," Prowl rumbled as he drew Jazz towards the berth. "It's been too long."

"That sounds like a good plan. I approve your first submission as your commander." Jazz purred. "I would like a few details clarified before it is executed though."

"Which details?" Prowl nuzzled into a kiss, though he stilled the movement towards the berth.

"Which sort of interface you wish to begin with. I recall you enjoying both spike and valve, and usually being willing to indulge my fondness for playing with wings." Jazz informed him as they settled together on the berth, moving with familiar ease around each other despite a long separation.

Prowl hummed, though his field answered before he spoke. "Something slow and gentle, if you can still enjoy that."

"With the right partner, always." Jazz assured him, backing the words with a tender kiss. Gentle hands proceeded to turn Prowl away, the Praxian arranged on his hands and knees on the berth, wing open to Jazz's attention. "Agreeable?" The dark mech asked, hands caressing the elegant sensor panels in a worshipful manner.

"Very agreeable," Prowl purred into a moan. His sensor wings pressed into the touch and his valve cover slid open, glistening, hot and ready to be filled.

"You still now know how to tempt me." Jazz said as he stretched up to caress both sensor wings, enjoying the shivers that ran through Prowl's frame and the moans of bliss that followed. "Nice and slow though, drawing this out, that's the plan."

"Yes, please," Prowl gasped with a sure of want in his field. "It's been too long."

Jazz tilted his helm to kiss a wing. "So elegant," he murmured as he slid his fully pressurized spike along the slick valve opening. The slickness of lubricant sent tingles through his neural net.

"You, of all mecha, had a hard time finding lovers?" Jazz asked, continuing to tease but honestly surprised. He knew his fascination with wings was not an uncommon kink, and Prowl was amazing in his own right. He had been from the moment they had first met in Praxus.

"Your wings," He stroked them. "Your valve." His spike teased the soft platelets surrounding and was tempted in return by the charge already gathering and the steady heat. "The honest way you please and allow yourself to be pleased." A soft kiss was planted on the back of Prowl's neck.

"I'm picky, and not many want to take time anymore," Prowl moaned and arched into the contact. "You haven't met me on duty yet either."

"I remember a workaholic who was devoted to his duty, but still willing to live." Jazz purred as he slipped into the ready valve. "And a mech who I intend to remember that willingness to live."

Prowl's moan cut off his response. Calipers cycled to embrace the thickness penetrating him and he rocked back into it, wanting more. "I remember, I just don't act like it on duty," he shivered in pleasure. "I have a _ohh_ reputation to maintain."

"Not in front of me." Jazz purred, thrusting into Prowl as his hands stroked the sensor wings. He remembered Prowl, remembered what fired the mech up, and set him over the edge. And Jazz intended to send him over that edge.

"Don't need to lie to you," Prowl gasped at the ripple of pleasure warming him from the inside out and the outside in. "You know the truth."

"That you are a master detective, tactician, and that you have a deeply caring spark that you do your best to hide? Oh yes, I know the truth." Jazz praised, his field stretching out to ripple into Prowl's, adding yet another dimension to the pleasure between them. Against him, under him and around him Prowl replied in kind, sharing and causing pleasure with the same intensity.

Jazz smiled and changed his rhythm, field alternating with touches to the wings, all underscored by the steady slide of his spike in the wonderfully tight valve. "Enjoy, and when you can't take it any more, let go. You trust me. I trust you."

It was a dangerous thing, trust, in their world. But this was a trust that had started long ago, build over hundreds of vorns, a dozen cases and a handful of vacations.

It was deliriously enjoyable, feeling Prowl's pleasure, causing it and being rewarded with pleasure for himself. It reminded Jazz why he'd made every excuse to visit Praxus. Casual fun was always good, but this, even though it was casual fun, was so much more.

Gradually Jazz leaned forward, panting with the roll of his hips. He was close and Prowl was closer. He was actually looking forward to Prowl's release more than his own and when it came with a roar and surging ripple of the valve calipers, it was a high like nothing else. It was a high that he rode for a long as he could before his own overload took him. Safety with a trusted, known lover where he could let go, and bask in the afterglow as his frame went lax, draped over Prowl.


	4. A Tactical Risk

At the end of his first duty shift, Prowl was tired, low on energy and very pleased as he logged out of his station. He had a processor full of data for his tac-net to work with while he recharged and was looking forward to a long cycle on his berth. That he'd be alone wasn't nearly as painful as it had been since the destruction of Praxus simply because he knew he had Jazz to turn to when he needed company. Maybe through the more sociable mech he'd even manage to make a friend or two here. Jazz had already mentioned several mecha that might be of interest to Prowl. One was even a veteran Sovereign player with multiple tournament wins to his designation. If nothing else, it would make for an enjoyable evening to play against an actual challenger again.

This late in the orn the main section of the base where his office was located was quiet, and the walk to the location of the junior officer quarter was peaceful. Prowl's room looked as he left upon entering, but as the door closed he found himself not alone. He had blaster in hand and focused on the lithe noble of Tower's design. "Shimmer."

"You are not going to shoot me, so put it away." Shimmer said, waving a hand at Prowl's blaster in a dismissive manner. "I know _who_ you are."

"So why are you in my quarters uninvited?" Prowl demanded calmly.

"Because I find myself bored, and looking for a night of entertainment. Prowl." Shimmer said, Prowl's full designation flowing from him with an addition that no mech on the base would have recognized.

The glyphs that Prowl had left behind him.

Frame for hire.

Buymech.

"I recall you being very good at your former function. And by your reputation, you have not allowed that skill to rust." Shimmer continued, approaching Prowl and reaching out boldly to run a hand down the Praxian's chest.

"I have not," Prowl said stiffly as he caught the hand to pushed it firmly away. "I am also no longer for hire."

"Not at any price?" Shimmer asked, his field and voice full amusement at the rejection.

"I have no need for credits anymore," Prowl pointed out.

"I am well aware that you are financially stable. But are there enough credits to save you if the truth got out? The history that the Enforcers were so careful to bury when they picked you up. The entire section of your functioning that they managed to make disappear?" Shimmer asked as he circled Prowl slowly, a hand trailing over the Praxian's frame, teasing and pinching with each question as Prowl grew ever more tense.

"What will happen when your superiors find out? That they have been taking advice from a former buymech? What about those who are under you? That they have been following a pleasurebot?" Shimmer continued. "It might be a legal trade, but in the end, from the simplest buymech to the highest courtesan, you have no status of your own. You are beneath the lowest garbage mech."

"Why would anyone worth it believe you over me?" Prowl challenged warily. "I have a well-established record going back more than a millennia among both Enforcers and Autobots."

"Those established. What about recruiting efforts? What about public image? So many factors. How the Decepticons could spin it so many ways. And then, even if they keep you, where would you be? Locked away in a room, a hidden, dirty secret that the Autobots would have to hide? And if that were to get out later? Layers upon layers...and I can release it all so easily. I have the evidence. My cousins were quite fond of 'slumming', and taping their excursions for later entertainment and boasting. The ones that include you are quite captivating." Shimmer purred, his circling ending in front of Prowl.

A swift grab pulled the Praxian's helm close, Shimmers glossa demanding as their lips met.

Reflex kicked in before thought and the heal of Prowl's hand cracked against the relatively light armor Shimmer sported, the strength of a full-force strike driving the noble to the ground even as Prowl took a step back and dropped into a defensive posture. "You'll show me your proof."

Shimmer sneered, then went calm and cold. With a casual shrug he held up hand from where he sat on the floor, a miniature projector balanced in his palm.

An image sprang to life, a scene from Prowl's past that most didn't know existed. The Praxian bound, on his knees, blindfolded, and enthusiastically sucking the spike of a Tower's noble.

The image shifted, another noble but Prowl still the centerpiece. Suspended from the ceiling by chains this time, pleading to taken, for release, as the mech circling him lashed out with a low level energy whip. Next, in anticipation of the demand of how anyone would place the Praxian in the images as the one that stood there now, were Prowl's enlistment file. Images, frame stats and his post-rebuild image.

His sensor wings bristling in very real anger that Prowl focused on making look like a reaction to being cornered rather than being blackmailed by an Autobot agent, he slowly forced his frame to display submission. "What do you want me to do?"

"Like I said, I'm bored. I'm looking to play." Shimmer said as he rose from the floor and approached Prowl once more.

Slender fingers traced the Praxian's chevron, pinching the end hard enough to cause a swift stab of pain. "There are not many who play to my kinks, and none who will indulge me. None who are willing to submit to my every whim and desire, and to do so skillfully. Humor me, and your secret stays safely hidden. Mine, just for me to enjoy."

Prowl's engine grumbled in anger as he straitened, his processors already deep into the process of pulling up the protocols that made being a buymecha a good existence for him. "My duty-readiness cannot be compromised."

"Of course not. I have no intention of endangering my fun." Shimmer smiled. "I have much practice playing games and walking fine lines. You have nothing to fear, so long as you play along. No one else will know what is going on, for any reason."

Prowl gave a curt nod and waited for his orders.

"On your knees." Shimmer ordered, stroking Prowl's helm as he issued the first order. Prowl complied without hesitation, his movements smooth and far more sensual than most knew he was capable of.

"I'm in the mood for a little warm-up." Shimmer declared, his spike cover sliding back. "I've heard tales of your talent. Now I want to see if they are true."

With an internal sigh that didn't even make it to his field, Prowl placed a kissing lick on the spike housing, his full focus on sinking completely into the protocols of an existence long past. The mech commanding him obviously cared nothing except for his own gain, the field relaxing out from the noble centered entirely on him, and not caring at all for Prowl.

The spike that was the focus of his attention responded readily, sliding from the housing and pressurizing into a work of art worthy of a Tower's noble. Prowl remembered them. The only reason he ever accepted one after his first experience was because they were willing to pay so well. Three and four times his going rate, and more once his reputation got around. Even after his employer took their cut it was worth it.

This was not, but he needed to string Shimmer along long enough to get to Jazz and that meant humoring the monster. With careful lips and glossa Prowl worked that artful spike, pleasuring without actively seeking to cause an overload.

"They were telling the truth." Shimmer purred, frame warming slowly with the attention. One hand left Prowl's helm to grace along a wing, stopping at a joint and pinching. It stung, but Prowl gave little reaction. Even back in his buymecha orns he wouldn't have. Since then he'd become far more intimately acquainted with pain and how to ignore it.

Disappointment rippled through Shimmer's field. "Don't ignore the pain." He growled, tweaking harder. "I like it when my toys respond. It makes things more fun."

With another private sigh, Prowl gave a whimper and tried to pull his sensor wing away, all while continuing to lightly pleasure Shimmer's spike.

"Better. You are good." Shimmer hummed. "I will train you to be _better_."

With a klik the noble's spike locked into place, and a firmer hand pulled at Prowl's helm, forcing the spike into the Praxian's intake. "All of it. I want to feel." Shimmer rumbled.

Prowl relaxed his intake but intentionally flexed it as if this was choking him. He was getting a good sense of what Shimmer wanted that no one would give him and knew it was going to be a decidedly unpleasant evening. Still, with the promise of no serious damage he was sure it wouldn't be his worst evening by a long shot.

The next sound from Shimmer was one of pleasure, Prowl's helm held firmly as the slender noble's frame started to move. It was all a power game meant to end in the noble's pleasure, and through his field Prowl could feel just how much the noble got off on the sensations of being in complete control. It was hardly a surprise, and Prowl submitted without question, offering up pained reactions when prompted and using every trick he knew that would get off this kind of client as Shimmer's overload built to a sharp crescendo.

A wave of pleasured satisfaction and a lazy strokes to his helm were Prowl's reward as the noble overloaded and relaxed.

"Not bad. Not bad at all." Shimmer mused, studying the Praxian as Prowl licked his spike clean.

As soon as he was finished with that task a firm grip on a sensor wing guided Prowl to his feet. "On the berth." Shimmer ordered, "On your knees, and down on your elbows."

Prowl moved smoothly into position. "How slick do you want me?"

"Slick enough to not damage, but no more." Shimmer decided, as he walked up beside Prowl, tapping and stroking the spread sensor wings, making minor adjustment to the Praxian's position. "Neither of us need questions to answer." Shimmer said as he reached into his subspace. A swift motion and Prowl's wrists were bound in spec-op grade cuffs in front of him. The noble leaned down, claiming Prowl's lip plates in a crushing imitation of a kiss. "But that limitation does not need to limit my fun too much."

Despite the surge of fear the cuffs caused and the immediate shift of 93% of non-critical his resources to getting out of them without showing it, Prowl relaxed into the kiss and didn't fight the tautness of his neck cabling when it was stretched to the point straining. His valve exposed and just slick enough that he wouldn't be damaged, Prowl quietly waited to be taken and the pain of having his sensor wings open to his client.

Shimmer vanished from optical view, but sensors followed the noble as he circled behind Prowl, a single digit testing the Praxian's valve and earning a moan of eager anticipation from the noble. The finger was replaced by the tip of the spike Prowl was now rather intimately familiar with. "Noise is good, but don't give me away. Things won't go well for if you do. Understand?" Shimmer asked as he leaned over Prowl, his own helm close enough to the Praxian's for the soft command and threat to be heard easily.

"Understood," Prowl responded as those orders were integrated into his session parameters.

"Good." Shimmer purred, the only warning that Prowl received before a spike was buried in his valve. Strong hands clamped on to his wings, squeezing tight as Shimmer froze except for the quivering of his frame. Waves of pain edged pleasure rolled from the noble, and the same sense of satisfaction from the first encounter. It would leave Prowl sore for a couple orns while self-repair dealt with the minor damage, but it was the hands on his sensor wings that drew an almost genuine whimper of pain. Shimmer knew how to grip him to cause pain without damage and Prowl was already hating him all the more for it.

The firm grip near the base would leave no marks, the location that Shimmer had grabbed was strong enough to take some rougher handling without damaging any sensors or relays.

But the rough pressure and the hard motion as noble began to move, driving his spike into the tight, clinging valve and using the Praxian's sensor wings as leverage was torture. It hurt enough that Prowl would have had to fight to keep his vocalizations down, and he wasn't fighting it much. He didn't want this too audible in the corridor or someone might want to check on him. Even though he intended to turn on this blackmailer he wasn't inclined to have his past come out if it was an option. Shimmer had been right about that. It would destroy his career outside of Ops.

The only grace in the entire scenario was the Shimmer seemed to have no intention in delaying his pleasure, the noble's moans shifting from steady to arrhythmic as his thrusts grew rougher and less coordinated. Prowl hurried him along as much as he dared, rippling the calipers and lining of his valve in sequence with the movements. It was another advantage to being forced by a mech who cared only for their own pleasure- Shimmer hardly noticed Prowl's efforts as he overload, biting the Praxian's neck to muffle his roar.

A spike of pain flitted through Prowl's field at that. It would leave a mark. Everyone would know he'd been with someone, just not who. He held still through his client's overload and remained where he'd been positioned as the noble recovered.

Shimmer was humming softly as he came around, and a hand ran over the bite mark on Prowl's neck. "It will be entertaining to watch mecha try and figure out who you were with. But as secretive as you are, we are in no danger of being discovered. An interesting advantage of your solitary nature."

The noble shifted slowly, pulling out of Prowl's frame and falling back on the berth to contemplate the mech bound before him.

"Turn, face me." He ordered, tone taking on a thoughtful, planning harmonic as Prowl complied without a word to kneel, facing his client. For several kliks Shimmer merely studied the Praxian before him, curious. "What is it about you?" He finally asked as he rolled gracefully from the berth to his pedes. "What is it about you that our commander finds so fascinating?" He clarified some as he reached for the cuffs, undoing them but not putting them away just yet.

"I am not sure," Prowl answered honestly. "We worked many cases together while I was an Enforcer."

"The first a high profile one, chance. The ones after that though, he _requested_. Vacation time he spent in Praxus as well, and not just because he loved the city, as he claims when he laughs off the question." Shimmer growled, tugging Prowl's arms behind him and under his sensor wings to cuff them once more.

A rough tug brought Prowl's pedes close together, the pressure of a band around one leg little warning as Prowl found himself restrained, wrists bound to ankles and his frame arched back. It was a terrifyingly vulnerable position and for once Prowl didn't hold the fact back much, though he did mute it to the point where he only teeked of being uneasy rather than bordering on panic as he worked to unlock the findings with insufficient skill. It brought back so much from that first time he'd almost deactivated and he knew if he got free he'd strike out and then bolt.

"What is it?" Shimmer demanded, jumping on the berth to face Prowl, claws brushing over the Praxian's chest. "You're spark? Do you share that with him too?"

"No," Prowl's panic kicked up a notch as he realized where this was going. He hadn't bared his spark to a non-Enforcer since he'd enlisted and he wasn't about to start now. Not even Jazz had asked that of him, in all the time they had spent together, and all that they had explored.

"No? Well, maybe it will still give me a clue as to how you've earned your hold on him." Shimmer growled, claws scraping along Prowl's chest. "Open."

"No." Prowl's growl was genuine as he began a real struggle against the bonds.

Shimmer grabbed his helm, forcing him to look into the noble's optics. "You're being naughty now. Either do as I say, or I will make you. Your choice, and your last chance."

"No." Prowl repeated as his entire focus went to getting himself free from restraints designed to hold those far more skilled than himself. In his panic and mission focus he completely forgot that he could actually comm for help. That he _should_ at this point.

"Your choice." Shimmer shrugged as a slender claw slipped deep into a seam in Prowl's armor and tripped a buried medical override. "You will show me." He promised as his own chest plates parted and, the light of his spark already spilling into the room and over Prowl. The Praxian could no longer conceal the extent of his fear as his chest plates were pushed apart despite his effort to keep them close, bringing his ice blue spark, nearly white, into view of his tormentor.

"Don't," Prowl's voice was shaking as he struggled.

Cold, self-centered desire met his pleas, the noble not even granting him an answer as leaned in close, spark reaching for Prowl's, leaders playing over the Praxian's crystal sparkcase.

"Please ... no," Prowl whispered, trying to pull away without success. A touch along his chamber and it was forced open. With a last desperate tug he turned his focus inward and put everything he had into keeping the merge shallow. He wasn't new to merging, both for pleasure and the deeper kind that was for committed lovers. As long as he could keep this one shallow he could come out of it with little psychological harm.

Shimmer groaned as their leaders found each other, then shuddered as he grasped the power of the spark against his own. "Oh, you're a strong one. Such a small frame for such a potent spark."

Prowl remained silent, functionally unaware of his surroundings with his entire being centered on protecting his spark. After what seemed like forever, his tac-net's suggestion of pushing spark energy intro his corona to cause the weaker spark to overload registered and he did just that. The spark against his pulled away after the overload, the spark returning to where it belonged behind the chest plates of the mech it powered.

"Yes...I can see why he might like you." Shimmer finally decided, nuzzling Prowl's helm as he recovered. Several kliks passed as the noble relaxed, then moved slowly from the berth.

Circling behind Prowl he freed the Praxian's legs, but paused at the cuffs binding Prowl's wrists to lean down by Prowl's audio. "I see, but you will remember. You are mine, and he will be mine." He warned softly before removing the cuffs.

"Rest well, my toy. I will see you soon."

By the time that Prowl could turn his helm his quarters were 'empty' once more. Only then did he began to really tremble and process what had happened. It was just like that first client that had changed his existence. He'd never been out of control in bondage since, until now. He'd become too sure of himself, arrogant about his skills and his value. With a shiver that was as real as it was for show, Prowl shifted to his side, curled in on himself and let his sensor wings go to work. The door hadn't opened. He was sure Shimmer was still in the room, hidden within the cloaking field. He'd be invisible to the entire EM spectrum, but not to every sensor type. Not to what Prowl had long relied on more than his optics.

He moved his sensor wings in a semi-random pattern. Just small movements as he sought out the reflections that were not there but should be.

"Mine." The voice repeated, and then he could sense the door open and close, and he knew there would be nothing on the record. It didn't matter. He had every proof needed in his memory banks. He had more than enough to destroy Shimmer if Jazz wouldn't handle it. If Jazz and the Prime both refused, then Shimmer just wouldn't be coming back from his next mission, and Prowl quite possibly wouldn't continue as an Autobot. It wasn't as if he needed them to survive.

He continued to monitor his room, not trusting that Shimmer was really gone until he'd scanned every bit repeatedly. Slowly he came down from the encounter and sank into a fitful recharge until he needed to rouse for his shift.

It wouldn't be until it was over that he would confront Jazz with what had happened.

* * *

After one of the longest-seeming shifts in Prowl's recollection he made his way into Ops, unseen by any regulars and concealing himself from most agents. This was not a meeting he cared to have known about, even within the unit.

"The room's empty, just me," Jazz called out after Prowl had stilled in the ceiling by a vent and tried to scan the room for a bit too long.

With a grunt Prowl unhooked the vent and swung to the ground with ease.

"Well, you and me now." Jazz corrected, then grew serious as he looked at Prowl. Even from this far away he could sense that something was off. Very off. "What's wrong?"

"You have a serious liability in your ranks. One that if he hasn't already been turned, will be," Prowl said grimly as he pulled the evidence datapad from his subspace and dropped it on Jazz's desk. "If you do not deal with Shimmer, I will be forced to."

"He plays too many power games, but he's never..." Jazz voice trailed off as he started viewing the evidence, field going from frustrated to furious to icy cold.

"There is now blackmail on him that will end him as an Autobot," Prowl said simply with a motion towards the evidence datapad.

"I cannot deactivate him. He's too valuable." Jazz said evenly, then he looked up to meet Prowl's optics. "But he will be taken care of."

Prowl nodded and relaxed a bit. "That would be my preference as well. There are better options than deactivation."

"He will be dealt with." Jazz promised, then his voice softened, and his field reached out to stop just touching Prowl's. "Now, what do you need?"

Prowl's field touched back, a hint of the brittleness Prowl felt in it as well as how strong he was. "At the moment, I need time to settle the old protocols where they belong and to see Shimmer punished. Don't put me on medical leave," his tone was almost pleading. "I don't cope well without work."

"I know you don't. And short of it being a medic or a superior's order, I don't intend to ever take that from you." Jazz promised him. The relief that briefly flared in Prowl's field made his spark constrict and him wonder what had happened to cause that strong a reaction. "Shimmer's punishment will be arranged within the next two orns."

His field touched Prowl's again, offering support and the warm safety of cadre/friend. "Would a familiar field while you recharge help?"

Prowl nodded faintly. "It would. Especially as I process the emotional fallout of miscalculating."

"Where do you want to recharge?" Jazz asked, already making notes so that he could alter schedules as needed. Even if he hadn't cared about Prowl more than he should, Prowl was one of _his_ and he took care of his mecha.

There was a moment of hesitation as Prowl debated the relative value of each location he could request. "My primary quarters," he flicked a sensor wing towards the outside world. "It will settle me the most quickly if I can reclaim the berth and room I should be in."

"Done. Are you ready to head there now?" Jazz asked, scooting aside the work on his desk until later.

"What is the plan if Shimmer decides he wants me tonight?" Prowl asked even as he nodded in agreement.

"Then I'll have enough evidence to punish him without having to wait for permission." Jazz said as he walked around the desk to join Prowl. Prowl's field brushed Jazz as they left the office and made their way up to the general part of the base and to Prowl's quarters. The first thing that Jazz noted was that there wasn't anything more personal or lived-in apparent than before Prowl had first walked in.

"Do you carry anything with you at all?" He asked, turning a circle as the door closed and waiting for direction from Prowl before moving any farther. The point was to make the other comfortable and as safe feeling as possible, and that meant giving Prowl complete control over everything possible until the Praxian felt comfortable relinquishing some of it again.

"Personal care supplies, a first aid kit, emergency supplies, personal weapons and a shard from the Garden. I keep them in my subspace," Prowl answered with a motion towards the berth. "I hope being against the wall doesn't make you twitchy."

"Nah. You want me there instead of between you and the door?" Jazz asked as he flopped on the berth. A mental note was made to have Prowl's berth padding upgraded. What had been provided was adequate, but Jazz was well aware of Prowl's preferences, and how much better the Praxian functioned when he was able to recharge in complete comfort. Getting him a berth pad comparable to the one in his Ops quarters would be an easy sell.

"Yes. It allows me awareness of the room," Prowl said as he sat on the berth, then laid down and faced Jazz. One sensor wing slid down off the side of the berth until the tip rested against the floor while the other locked more upright. To Jazz, it didn't look comfortable, but he understood it. Prowl was less physically afraid of Shimmer as he was of being snuck up on.

"Front or back?" Jazz asked easily, not questioning statement as he stretched and relaxed more, the tension caused by an orn of work slowly easing from his frame.

"Whatever you're most comfortable with," Prowl murmured as his optics dimmed with the first stage of shutdown.

"Well then..." Jazz thought for a second, then rolled on his side to face Prowl, snuggling his frame against the Praxian's and deliberately spreading his field out to cover the other with the feeling of friend. He teeked it returned, mixed with thanks and a gradual relaxing of the damage-tension that Prowl tried to conceal and probably had from most. Jazz knew him well though. He knew what fresh emotional hurting teeked like and he knew when the relief was genuine. It felt good to be able to offer it and know he was trusted enough that Prowl could accept it.

He also knew that with what had happened, the real healing that needed to happen he probably wasn't trusted enough for. He wasn't sure he could expose his spark even if Prowl did trust him enough. It was something he would have to think on, weighing responsibility and care against personal feelings, and factoring in the mech in question.


	5. The Price of Overconfidence

Jazz watched in silence as Shimmer was escorted into the interrogation room and seated. The noble's escorts said nothing, only securing the slender mech and departing at the nod from their commander. However curious they might have been, they knew better than to ask questions of their commander. Why Shimmer had been arrested, or what Jazz and the silent Praxian at his side wanted with the noble they had not been told, and if they didn't _need_ to know, they might never find out.

"What is the meaning of this?" Shimmer demanded with all the arrogant self-confidence of his heritage.

"The meaning of this meeting is that you've finally gone too far, mech." Jazz informed the noble, calm and collected in the face of the arrogance directed his way. "You've gotten way with your games in the past, but you crossed the line when you went after one of us."

"I did nothing," Shimmer scowled. " _That_ is no agent."

"Really?" Jazz glanced at Prowl, then looked back to Shimmer. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, posture far more at ease than he was really feeling. "Want to explain that to me?"

"Explain what? It's a city-less mech," Shimmer waved a hand towards Prowl. "An Autobot because our Prime is desperate."

"Praxus is no more, through no fault of Prowl's." Jazz replied evenly. "By that thinking all Praxian's are without rights, which we both know would not be true. Try again."

"I did nothing and _that is not an agent_ ," Shimmer repeated firmly.

"Prowl is one of us." Jazz repeated as he straightened. "He was recruited just as you were. He works, just as you do. He may not be a _field_ agent, but he is an agent. He is the one who plans the missions _you_ go on." Jazz said as he stalked towards Shimmer, growling softly. "He is one of us, and you acted against him for your own selfish gain. You harmed one of _your brothers_."

"I did no such thing," Shimmer faced Jazz down with the same strength of conviction that had seen him face down other interrogators.

"So you are denying that you entered Prowl's quarters without permission, raped him, and then attempted to blackmail him into silence?" Jazz asked, voice going deceptively soft with the accusations.

Behind him he could feel Prowl twitch as he listed the charges, and he buried the desire to turn and reassure the Praxian once more that all would be well. Shimmer's files had been found, and the noble's comms had been deactivated before he had been brought into interrogations, just as his weapons and other defense systems. Shimmer could not trigger the pending transmissions of Prowl's identity that he had been holding over the Praxian.

"I did no such thing," Shimmer huffed indigently. "Your pet lied, or you put him up to it. You always have been jealous of me."

Jazz didn't even try to contain his laughter at the accusations. " Prowl is no one's pet, least of all mine." He informed Shimmer. "And why would I be jealous of _you_?"

"Why wouldn't you be?" Shimmer gave a seductive smile. "My frame, my ability, my skills. You're in admin because you aren't good enough to make it in the field. Or didn't you know that's how officers are chosen? Those who can't do, manage."

"Oh? Apparently you didn't bother hacking into my file." Jazz informed the noble, still amused. He reached out and tweaked a helm fin roughly. "Not my taste. Your special ability you use as crutch, because your skills can be wanting. Without that cloaking device, you would be essentially useless."

Shimmer bristled.

Jazz grinned dangerously. "I earned my rank, starting from the bottom. My command here is a break from regular field work, and a chance to train others because our superiors believe my skills to be of value," he informed Shimmer. "They've tolerated your games up 'till now, but no more. Really, I just brought you down here to inform you of your punishment."

"And that?" Shimmer threw a hateful glare at Prowl that promised much pain.

" _Prowl_ is here as a witness as one who has suffered from crimes." Jazz informed Shimmer. "Understand, that in our world, his pure value is far greater than yours. Field agents are plentiful. _Good_ field agents are valuable. Tacticians of his caliber are _irreplaceable_."

In a way, Jazz was giving the noble in front of him a chance. His orders were flexible. His commanders trusted his abilities. But the deeper he got, the more he was sure that the course of action he had chosen and they had given him permission to carry out was going to be the final result.

"Buymecha," Shimmer spat.

"Yes, I was," Prowl said without shame. "You forgot the first rule of blackmail: always make sure it's not a setup."

"What!" Shimmer actually squawked, his optics bright as he stared at Prowl.

"Think about it, Shimmer," Prowl said as he continued to lean against the wall. "You hacked enough files to work out my second function, yet you never actually read my Enforcer upgrades. That bit about my memory files being valid forensic evidence in court is rather important, you know. Because once you touched me, I had enough to destroy you. You should know that any blackmail that good is enough that you will be turned sooner or later. We all know it. You became a liability the moment you decided to assault an Enforcer."

"We have everything. Prowl's memories. Your history. The records, files, and messages that you compiled to use against him. You're done Shimmer." Jazz informed the noble.

He watched as it finally seemed to sink in a little before continuing. "This was your last chance. _Shimmer_ will not be leaving this room."

The noble twitched, his gaze landing on Jazz. "You don't have that authority."

"I don't, but I have permission from those that do." Jazz informed him, voice cold and completely devoid of any sort of sympathy. "The specialist is already here. You knew what you were signing up for when you joined this division. You chose not to take our laws to spark. Now you will pay for your choices."

Message delivered, Jazz stepped back, offering Prowl the chance to address Shimmer.

"One question," Prowl focused on the irate and somewhat frightened noble. "When did you decide to use my spark?"

"When you defied me. When you refused to give me real answers." Shimmer spat. "No matter what he says, you will never be my equal, much less my better. No sparked mecha is. You were created to serve in whatever capacity your _betters_ order."

"In the capacity my _commander_ orders," Prowl corrected evenly. "Just as your frame will gladly do soon."

The noble's sputtering protests were ignored by both mechs as Jazz motioned at Prowl. As soon as they were clear of the room Jazz commed the waiting specialist and the mecha assigned to help him that he was free to proceed.

"My office." He told Prowl and set off without looking back, knowing the Praxian would follow. They walked in silence until the door to the office closed behind them.

"Thank you for allowing me to be there," Prowl said quietly.

"You needed it. You deserved it." Jazz said, flopping in his chair and letting his optics go dim as he replayed the last joor in his processor. A lazy wave of his hand offered Prowl a seat in one of the other chairs crammed in the small office.

"He was a danger to the government. I had to get the evidence before he was turned," Prowl said as he sat down.

Slowly Jazz's visor brightened. "Were you a plant to catch him? Or was it just bad luck that he found you, and good luck for us that you turned him in?"

"No, I was not a plant, at least not to my knowledge. However if a superior wished him to be caught, it would take little knowledge of me to have a functional certainty of my actions once he approached me," Prowl answered. "Given what he had on me in such short notice, especially given I look nothing like I did then, it seems likely that he was set up with the temptation."

Jazz huffed in irritation, knowing that Prowl spoke truth. He even had to admit that if the opportunity laid out before him that he might have asked Prowl to plan and carry out some form of the situation that had occurred.

With a sigh and a rough shake that ran through the length of his frame Jazz straightened in his chair to address Prowl. "I now know a great deal of your past." He started. "I recognize frame you once wore as a mech I remember. Do you remember me?"

"There was a very dim sense of field familiarity when we first met on the Drifter case. I assumed you were a repeat client at some point with a significantly different look and designation," Prowl said evenly. "Not exactly an unusual thing given you were already an agent. Will my past be a problem?"

"No. If anything, I respect your drive and determination even more, for what you have become, and what you rose from." Jazz said, honesty and sincerity in every line of his frame. "For a while you served at a rather decent establishment in Iacon. There was a bounty hunter who frequented it regularly, with a fondness for winged frames." Jazz said, as though he was telling a story. "I was rather sad when they told me that you had freed yourself. But only because I missed your company."

"Based on your current frame, I would say you were either Jager or Ricochet," Prowl prompted.

"Jager." Jazz admitted quietly as he watched Prowl, silently wondering how much this was going to change the relationship that existed between them.

A small smile crossed Prowl's features. "You were one of my few well-paying clients that I looked forward to then. Most tipped that well because I'd do anything for a price, short of extinguishing. I actually enjoyed your visits."

Tension eased from Jazz as a smile of his own appeared. "I was looking for a good time with someone that was having a good time, at least as much as the situation would allow. So, we still good?"

"We are still good, and I do still like you," Prowl said with easy conviction. "I do have a question though. Just how badly would the rank and file take finding out about my second function?"

Jazz huffed as he weighed factors. "As mixed of a bag as the Autobots are, it would cause an upset for a while. There are those who would respect you for have done- mecha who worked their way up from the bottom as you have. Anyone who was middle class or higher before joining would likely protest your rank. It would cause divisions among our forces. Not like we don't have enough of them already."

"Enough that Whiplash would recall me and have a cosmetic rebuild for a new designation then," Prowl grumbled at the idea. "I'm glad it didn't get out then. A waste of resources to get me back in the game."

"Most likely." Jazz agreed, then paused as he recalled something. Reaching into his desk he pulled out a small box and tossed it in Prowl's direction.

He caught it easily, then examined it. Sensor wings lifted with curiosity before he opened the box. A tight, surprised trill escaped Prowl's vocalizer at the half dozen candies. "For me?"

"All yours, unless there is someone you want to share them with." Jazz informed him, pleased with the Praxian's reaction. It was a small thing, but one that had been a recurring gesture the entire time they had known each other, and it was nice that it still got a happy reaction from Prowl.

"With you, tonight?" Prowl suggested before putting the box in his subspace. "The pleasure we usually share won't be a trigger for me."

"I'm free, and game." Jazz smiled, before adding. "Will it help you?"

Prowl hummed. "No, since I have no intention of trying spark play or hardline. I would enjoy your company, however."

Jazz nodded in acceptance, wondering how Prowl was planning to face that, but willing to let it slide for now. "Where?"

"My quarters," he made a motion to the public area. "When will you be off duty?"

"Short of something blowing up, I'll meet you when your shift is over." Jazz said, not bothering to tell Prowl that he had already cleared his schedule for the night in hopes that the Praxian would want some company.

"Then I will see you in the common room for energon?" Prowl suggested as he stood, his field reaching out to Jazz's with affectionate anticipation.

Jazz rose from his chair, reaching out slowly so Prowl could follow his every move as he touched the Praxian's helm and tipped it forward for a gentle kiss. It was returned warmly, eagerly, and deepened softly until both their fans kicked in. 

"I'll be there." Jazz promised as they separated briefly.

"As will I," Prowl promised with a second, quicker kiss.

Jazz nodded and walked Prowl walk out. He couldn't help but wonder how much of Prowl's eagerness was real, and how much was a cover for what he was trying not to think about. Either way, Jazz swore he'd do all he could to make Prowl feel safe, cared for and good about himself again.

* * *

Jazz walked into the main rec room of the base with a friendly smile and greetings ready for the mecha there, no matter who they were or how long they'd been there. Everybody knew of him. He was the friendly one; the officer most forgot was an officer. He was also an easy lay if you were first to ask him on a given evening and were respectful about it. So when he walked in alone, it wasn't long before a former lover was ready to try for another night.

"Sorry, my mech, but I have plans," Jazz soothed the rejection with a friendly field that welcomed the attention. It did the job and sent the suitor away without hurt feelings.

He drew a cube of energon and settled at an out of the way table for his date to join him. On the surface he was merely relaxing. In truth he was seeing and hearing more than most knew, quietly keeping a finger on the spark-pulse of the base. It was one of the reasons he'd been assigned here to this high traffic base. With so many coming in and out it gave Jazz a read on the entire army from a single room.

Prowl entered exactly on time, still stiff and formal from being on duty and still being in public. Jazz watched him get his ration and walk to the table with an almost shy smile.

"I can see through your act, you know." Jazz teased him quietly as Prowl joined him. The Praxian's back was to the room, allowing him full sensor readings. With Jazz facing him the visored mech was able to keep a visual on the room. It was a comfortable arrangement that had served them well in the past.

"It's not much of an act," Prowl mouth quirked up before he took a drink. "Civilians are weird. I'm still not used to them."

"They say the same thing about you all." Jazz chuckled. "They'll adapt. And I know you can, and will."

"True enough," Prowl agreed easily with another sip as he began to relax, just a little. "There are difficulties every time two cultures attempt to merge or change the status quo. How long before we meet the new agent?"

"Two or three orns. He's in recovery now. And he'll have a little time to settle in before his training begins." Jazz said. "The procedure went well."

"Good," Prowl nodded. "Anything else interesting going on?"

"Got a new round of rookies coming in soon. You're supposed to look over the group, see if any of them have any sort of tactical promise to them." Jazz informed him. "Good luck with that, by the way. The last few batches seemed to be lacking in that particular processor area."

"Given how rare the predisposition was even in peacetime I can't say I'm surprised," Prowl hummed between sips. "Still, one never knows what a spark is talented at if it was a general summons or kindled. It is always worth looking."

"Glad it's your job and not mine." Jazz informed, still in a teasing mood as his field caressed Prowl's, warm and inviting. Prowl's brushed back, the edges curling about each other and mingling agreeably.

"It's a job I do not mind. It's not that different from interviewing witnesses," Prowl pointed out. "Now your duties would drive me crazy. Training is not something I understand well."

"Outside of my field I'd probably be responsible for more deactivated frames than I pass." Jazz joked. "But since we're pretty selective, it could be worse. And it's not full time either. Boss knows better than to do that to me."

"Whiplash is a good commander," Prowl said with a distinct hint of fondness that came from being sure a mecha had earned his position on skill. "As are you. You both care even as you are willing to make hard choices for the greater good."

Jazz sighed at the truth. "Functioning ain't a box of energon goodies, much as most mecha would like it to be."

Prowl took a long moment to translate what Jazz meant, then nodded. "Regrettably so. Occasionally it is not even the actions of mecha that makes it so."

"'Nough of that though." Jazz said as he finished off the last of his energon. "Ready to head out for a nice evening?"

"Very ready," Prowl purred softly with a surge of eager anticipation in his field as he stood and dilapidated his own empty cube.

Murmurs followed the pair as they left the common room, but when Prowl listened he realized that they were mostly along the lines of what a lucky mech he was to have Jazz's attention for the night, and very little about Prowl himself. It left Prowl pleased. He didn't want to be noticed. It was bad for his reputation to be seen as the highly sensual mecha he was.

They walked in silence, though Jazz's field reached out to tease Prowl's, playfully brushing against the other mech's in anticipation and promise. Prowl's played back with the same and the light touches soon had their circuits buzzing. By the time the door to Prowl's quarters opened they were both hot from it, yet when Prowl froze a full step into his quarters he realized that he wasn't completely over Shimmer's invasion of his space. He was scanning for that invisible presence even though he knew the mech was wiped clean and halfway through being reformatted into a much more subservient noble.

"May I come in?" Jazz called softly from where he had stepped back out the door, giving Prowl space to settle himself.

"Yes, it's not you," Prowl assured him quickly as he shook off his nerves and took a second step inside. "It seems I was more unsettled than I expected."

"Tonight is for you." Jazz said as the door closed behind him. He slipped around to kiss Prowl and found it returned warmly. "Tell me what you want."

"Slow and gentle," Prowl murmured between kisses as his hands slid along Jazz's frame. "And for you to enjoy it as well."

"Still don't offer my valve very often. And when I do no one's as good as you." Jazz purred. "It's feeling very empty at the moment."

A shiver ran down Prowl's frame with a flare of anticipatory pleasure that was funneled into a long, deep kiss as he gently guided Jazz towards the berth. "Then I will have to do something about that," he purred deeply. "It is always an honor."

"With you, it's a _pleasure_." Jazz informed Prowl as he laid back on the berth. A small part of his processor noted that he would have something else to surprise the Praxian with soon, since the request he had put in for a better berth pad had been approved, and the new one would be delivered the next orn. But that was quickly chased away as he looked up at his lover and was granted another kiss as Prowl settled over him. "May I still have your wings?" He asked hopefully between increasing heated kisses.

"Yes," Prowl quivered and rotated them up and down as much as he could. As his spike slid free and pressurized, he focused on kissing and reached one arm up so he could rub a sensor horn. The attention earned him a soft moan of pleasure as Jazz tilted his helm to press into the touch, warmth spreading through his field as it expanded into the Praxian.

Skilled fingers traced his front to dance along his spike, familiar and gentle as the soft click a retracting valve cover carried to his audios. Prowl shifted his weight so he could free one arm to reached between them and stroke the soft, pliant platelets before circling the valve rim to spread lubricant all around.

"Like I said, no one as good as you." Jazz said, hands running up Prowl's sides to find his sensor wings. "None of them I care to repeat this with."

"Because I care," Prowl purred into a kiss as he slowly nudged the tip of his spike against the opening. "It's not skill here, simply desire to please."

"A rare thing these orns." Jazz murmured as his hips rolled up, asking and inviting as he teased the sensor wings in his grasp, pleasure from the indulging of one of his kinks, and the pleasure that it brought to his lover. They moaned together as Prowl pressed inside, the movement slow and smooth in stretching the mesh lining. Prowl tucked his face against Jazz's neck and focused to continue rubbing the sensor horn while he reached back and lifted one knee to shift the angle of entry.

"Yes- Prowl." Jazz knew exactly who he was with, and while he was not one to turn down pleasure, what was here and now with the Praxian was different than the norm.

A shiver ran the length of his frame as the familiar spike stretched his valve and touched off the sensor nodes at the top. In an almost automatic response his valve rippled in a particular pattern that he knew would earn a response from his lover. Prowl's moan didn't disappoint. Deep and genuine against Jazz's neck cabling, it vibrated through their frames as Prowl began to pull out.

Even with this single stroke Jazz knew what flavor of slow and gentle Prowl was in the mood for and it sent another serge of anticipation through him. If Prowl still had the skills he was once known for Jazz would be delirious from overloading before he felt Prowl spill inside him. It was a flavor of control that Jazz didn't understand, but he knew it made Prowl feel strong and sure of himself, and but pit did it feel good to be on the receiving end of.

Aware of the plan now he relaxed on the berth, purring and moaning softly as he called Prowl's designation and stroked the wings and frame above him. It had been a new experience when Prowl had introduced him to this, but Jazz had quickly become addicted to the play.

Surrender was so easy like this, laying back and doing nothing to try to control the building charge and warmth in his frame as his lover slowly stroked the fire. The first overload came as a surprise, it always did. After such a long buildup the tipping point was a shock when current roared through him, jumping circuits and scrambling commands. The blissful cry was unabashed as Jazz clung to his lover, shaking and reveling in the unhurried slide of the spike inside him all the way through and beyond.

* * *

Jazz began his boot cycle with the wonderful sensation of pleasurable warmth suffusing his frame and a field his sub-conscious classified as safe.

"Prowler." He purred, vocalizer coming online before his optics powered up, greeting his berthmate and the wonderful wake-up call. It wasn't the first time he'd booted up to Prowl's mouth and intake working his spike but he'd never grow tired of it. The skill of this particular mouth and intake aside, even before the war it was rare to find a lover who enjoyed giving oral so much.

"You are amazing." Jazz purred softly, optics booting to glow softly as he reached down to stroke the sleek helm and tease the bold red chevron. Prowl purred in reply, adding vibration to the touch and suction. Jazz moaned, hips rolling up into the offered pleasure, knowing that Prowl could handle that and more with ease. This too was something he had missed, being parted from the Praxian. Warmth spread through his frame, and he pushed it outward for the other to feel.

Prowl's field replied in kind, offering the pleasure Prowl felt at giving such pleasure willingly. The pleasure of a lover tending to a lover. An act of choice rather than obligation. It was everything they both enjoyed about a good interface.

"Yes." Jazz gasped as he came, spilling into his lover as his frame quivered in release. Whatever had inspired Prowl to start this exchange so long ago, Jazz blessed it as he relaxed back on the berth, coherent but in no mood to move. A few soft moans escaped him as Prowl drew back and then licked him clean.

"Good morning," Prowl smiled as he slinked up Jazz's frame for a lingering kiss.

"It is." Jazz agreed as he rolled over to snuggle into his lover and share the first kiss, and then another. "A very good morning."

"Perhaps the first of many while we are stationed together?" Prowl suggested as his fingers danced along Jazz's side.

"Many, many more." Jazz agreed. "And maybe if we play Whip right, many more even after we move on."

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: Transformers G1  
> Author: gatekat and starsheild on LJ  
> Pairing: Jazz/Prowl, Prowl/other  
> Rating: NC-17 for mech/mech  
> Codes: Pre-war, Blackmail, Non-con, Prostitution, Consensual, Sticky, Spark, Bondage  
> Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page <http://www.gatekat-fics.livejournal.com/290.html>. We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.
> 
> Notes: Prowl is  
> [](http://gatekat.deviantart.com/art/Tri-Wing-Prowl-by-Alteride-261651115)  
> Tri-Wing Prowl by Alteride by [Gatekat](http://gatekat.deviantart.com/) on [deviantART](http://www.deviantart.com)
> 
> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years; 
> 
> Insperation: Former buymecha Prowl being blackmailed  
> From <http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/13205.html?thread=14534805#t14534805>
> 
> I'd love to see a fic starting in the golden age of cybertron, in the red light district. Jazz is working as a bounty hunter/assassin/something badass and has some time and credits to spend. He ends up hiring a pleasure bot and proceeds to have a night of kinky sex. Jazz May or may not hire him multiple times after.
> 
> Fast forward to the war, where Jazz meets Prowl and takes a liking to him. And then realizes he was the pleasure bot that he hired before the war.
> 
> This is where the dub/non con comes in. Jazz blackmails Prowl, asking favours in return for silence. Favours like rough, kinky, violent sex. And Prowl can't turn to anyone for support without exposing his past. Or does he ? It's up to the author!
> 
> Sticky please!
> 
> The details are entirely up to the author, and if the blackmail part of the prompt doesn't work, it didn't have to be included! They could have a happy ending instead. I just like dark Autobots.


End file.
